The Boys Who Lived
by Sarak
Summary: Alice and Lily had a secret...But even the best of plans go misled, and the best of sons are left motherless. Harry and Neville will be left to pick up the pieces. AU
1. Prologue

The Boys Who Lived

**-June 23, 1981-**

"Lils, are you sure about this?" A pretty blonde woman of about twenty glanced at her closest friend, Lily Potter. Lily laughed as she avidly watched two toddlers of about eleven months levitate toy blocks to build a castle. The two boys chattered on in their own little language. Alice couldn't blame her friend for being captivated, she often found herself staring at her son as he played, or laughed, or just smiled. Even with the war around them, it couldn't detract from the simple magic of a baby's smile, laugh, or their own unique language.

"Oh Alice," the redhead turned to talk to her. "Don't be such a pussywillow! This is simply to help them control their powers appropriately. We've researched this for forever! I even asked Severus about the potion. And Flitwick assured me that parents used to do this all the time before the '60s." Lily reassured her friend. "Besides… We don't want another episode like yesterday on our hands, now do we?"

The two bust out into laughter. Yesterday was Lily and James's anniversary and Frank and Alice had gone with them to an elegant restaurant in Muggle London. Babysitting was left up to Harry's godfather, Sirius Black, a mistake that Lily and Alice were sure to never make again. Harry and Neville could be a handful just playing together. Add in the fact that Sirius had let the boys gorge themselves on Chocolate Frogs, and you had a recipe for disaster. While the two toddlers were creating havoc, Sirius somehow managed to drop his wand. Unfortunately Harry happened to pick it up. Between the combined forces of Harry and Neville and Sirius's wand, the whole living room was soon in disarray. It didn't take long for the two toddlers to turn the furniture into stuffed animals. However, even that couldn't keep the two occupied for long. So the animals were soon animated and floating all over the room, except for one Lion that was content to chase Sirius around. The couples came home to find the once proud Sirius Black on his hands and knees begging two toddlers to relinquish his wand. All while a huge purple Lion chased him around the room and Harry gave him a beard to rival Dumbledore's. Of course Harry and Neville would respond with their favorite word every time Sirius would ask for his wand. They had taken to saying "No" every five seconds and giggling like mad every time they said it. Needless to say, it was a good hour before James, Frank, Lily and Alice could compose themselves enough to help their friend's misfortune.

Alice turned to her friend again, after they shared their laughter. "So explain the whole process to me again." Lily rolled her eyes, but started talking animatedly anyways.

"Ok, so we use this potion that I brewed to place a block over Nev's and Harry's power. Don't worry; there is no danger in the potion. The only reason people stopped using it was because of those hippies in the '60s. They thought it was like dude so uncool to like hamper our kid's power, man." Lily gave a poor impression of a 1960's hippie and Alice giggled. It was so easy to be herself around Lily. "The potion will leave a tiny fraction of their magic, so they will still have occasional bouts of normal accidental magic, namely whenever they feel scared, sad or frightened. I will for one love this. Harry has this nasty little habit of levitating himself out of his crib every time we try to put him to bed." Lily explained and Alice nodded.

"Oh, Nev's the same way. He detests baths. He just banishes the bathwater every time we try. It's getting to be a real hassle."

'It's ridiculous." Lily agreed. "So I figure it will be best for Nev and Harry if we just release their power a little at a time. This way they will gain more control over what they have, plus they won't be dependent on it like my darling husband."

"Yeah, I love Frank to death, but he uses magic for every little thing and it just bugs me to death! I refuse to have my son be that lazy… But just one more irrational concern… What if we forget to remove the block?"

"Honestly Alice!" Lily smiled at her friend. "Like you or I would forget about something like this? But," Lily conceded "if it will make you feel better, I put in a foolproof spell into the potion. It will release the rest of their power when the boys are almost 16, or roughly 15 years from today." Alice smiled at her friend.

"Ok Lils, I'll admit it. You've thought of everything." Lily smiled smugly.

"No need to comment on my brilliance, fair Alice, for I have my dear husband James to do that." The two laughed again. Filling two baby bottles with the purple potion, the two exchanged a determined glance. The smiled and clinked the bottles together, as they fed them to their sons.

"Bottoms up." Lily giggled as she said it. Alice just turned an inquiring eyebrow. "It's a muggle expression, Ali." Alice laughed.

"You and your muggle-ness." Alice said.

"You and your pureblooded-ness." Lily laughed, completing their shared joke. They always teased each other about their lack of knowledge. With a burp, Harry and Neville finished their bottles. The women returned the eager toddlers to the floor. Harry and Neville tried in vain to once again levitate the blocks. Lily and Alice exchanged a high five.

"Mission accomplished." Lily giggled again. Alice rolled her eyes.

"Muggle?" she asked, and Lily nodded. Alice rolled her eyes again before joining in with Lily's infectious giggling. The two exchanged a smile and sat down to play blocks with their sons… the muggle way.

**-November 14, 1981-**

Alice Longbottom looked around in disgust. The world had been rejoicing for the past fifteen days; however, you didn't have to look very hard to see Alice's red-rimmed eyes. The celebrations of the past fifteen days did nothing to dull the pain. She hadn't just lost a dear friend, no she had lost six. James and Lily were lost to that monster as his last victims. She wondered who else mourned for them; it seemed as if there was only celebration… No one remembered the great sacrifice of Lily and James for their baby son. And Harry…had gone to those horrible excuses for human beings, those filthy Muggles. It pained her to see her little Nev wander around the house looking for his best friend, his partner-in-crime. He was starting to withdraw into the little shell that only Harry could bring him out of. Alice felt like crying just at that. But no, it had only gotten worse. Sirius, the betrayer, was gone off to Azkaban. Alice still couldn't bear to think of it… She just couldn't believe that Sirius would do that… But what else could she do? He was gone without a trial. And Peter, not her favorite of the bunch, she had always thought he seemed a little distant, or aloof, especially around the children. Of course, Alice could harbor no ill thoughts against the dead. It was almost too much to think that Sirius would become a murderer. Alice had desperately hoped she was stuck in a dream…But no. Day after day, she kept waking up to find that her worst nightmare had come true. Perhaps the saddest story of the bunch was the walking dead that Remus Lupin had become. He was truly alone, or so he thought. Alice and Frank tried desperately to reach out to him, but he seemed to have lost the will to live. There was no telling what would become of their sweet Moony in the years to come. He seemed as if he would like nothing better to then to waste away into oblivion, which he was well on his way to doing. You hardly ever say him without red-rimmed bloodshot eyes, and a hangover from the night before. He had taken to Ogden's Fire Whiskey, it seemed to dull the pain, or make him forget. Either was better than living in reality. Alice dared not say it, but she would rather have Voldemort back, than face this nightmare.

Alice glanced at her husband. He hadn't slept in days, it was apparent in the bags under her eyes. He had been busy trying to sort through all of the death-eater cases. Unlike her, he wasn't on maternity leave from work. So her dear Frank had chosen to throw himself into his work, rather than face their personal hell. James and Frank had been partners. She knew they had been closer than brothers the past few months. It pained her to hear him cry himself to sleep when he came home after he thought she was asleep. He acted brave and strong, the perfect shoulder for her to cry on and try to sort herself through the nightmare. But she hadn't returned the favor… Some loyal wife she was. He had perhaps lost more than she had. James had been his first friend… The two had been playing together since they were children. They grew distant in Hogwarts, as they were in different years and different houses. But over the past few years, through all the Auror training they had renewed their brotherly bond. The Marauders had welcomed Frank into their circle. A circle that now lay in pieces. Alice turned to face her husband. She was going to be the wife she should've been fifteen days ago… She laid a comforting hand on his arm.

"Frank… I'm sorry." Her lip quivered as he turned to her with compassion in his eyes.

"For what dear? You haven't done anything… I should be the one who is sorry. I've rarely been home, just leaving you by yourself." He looked close to tears.

"No, Frank. You've been great… I haven't been the wife I should be. I promised to always be there for you, and lately I've just been taking and taking, and I haven't given you anything." Alice said softly with tears streaming down her face. A slight rustling in the bushes caused them both to jump. They turned face to face with black hoods and white masks.

"Ah…. Wasn't that sweet? Little Mrs. Longbottom caring for her husband." A woman mocked, as Alice recognized the voice in horror.

"Bellatrix!" She gasped.

"The one and the same…" She said scathingly. "Now what has the Potter brat done with the Dark Lord?"

"Your master, if you can call him that, is gone. He's defeated. Take your vermin and leave." Frank spit on the ground and stepped protectively in front of his wife.

"What? Afraid your wife can't hold her own against a few pathetic death eaters?" Another one ridiculed. Frank narrowed his eyes.

"Leave, you'll find nothing that you want here. Leave my wife alone." Bellatrix smiled maliciously through her mask.

"I don't think we will… You haven't told us where you hid the Dark Lord." Alice shoved her way past her husband.

"He's defeated…. By a one year old! How pathetic!" She spat out at the death eater. Bellatrix narrowed her eyes.

"I think you could use some lessons in manners, Alice, perhaps your husband too? _Crucio!_" a jet of light shot at Alice. Bellatrix held it for a second before letting Alice fall gracefully into her husband's arms.

"Now Frank, tell us where we will find the Dark Lord, or watch Alice suffer." Frank gazed into his wife's eyes.

"No Frank," she whispered. "Don't her win. Don't show your fear. I'll be fine."

"I'll never tell you… Your threats have no value to me. Do your worst to me." He glared at the death eaters. A determination not often found in Hufflepuffs showed brightly in his eyes. Despite her pain, Alice grinned, they would pay for the pain they had caused. She made an effort and stood up determinedly. Frank leaned over to whisper in her ear.

"Get yourself home, Ali. Protect Neville, I'll hold them off."

"No, Frank, my place is right here. Next to you." She said stubbornly. Despite the situation, Frank rolled his eyes.

"You always were stubborn." The two aurors prepared to duel, as the Death Eaters formed a tight circle around them.

"Awww…. Isn't that sweet?" Bellatrix smiled sweetly. "Don't worry about your kid, Frankie… He'll join you soon." Frank glared at the woman, no one threatened his son.

"You are starting to get on my nerves." With that he fired a curse at the woman, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Alice rapidly fire stunning spells in quick succession. Feeling the first Crutacious Curse hit him, he knew they were out numbered. But no was he going to give them the satisfaction of hearing his screams, little did he know that he would be silent for the rest of his life.

Alice watched in horror as her husband writhed painfully on the ground before her eyes. The split second of hesitation was all the death-eaters needed to get her under their control as well. She steeled herself against the pain. She had to hold out for Neville. She couldn't bear for her Neville and Lils' Harry to grow up without a mother. She was their last hope. Drifting in and out of consciousness, she heard the sounds of fighting as Aurors finally showed up. But as Alice lay trapped in her own mind, she knew they were too late. She would never wake up from this nightmare. The curse had trapped her soul in the depths of her mind, never to wake up and be her cheerful self again. The death-eaters had done what they sought out to do. They had destroyed her, and they had left two little boys motherless in a lonely world.

**Author's Note: I got the idea for this today while I was reading this really good story called Becoming Neville by Jedi Rita today. My story won't be like hers… but it made me realize how cool of a character Neville is... But you should go check out her story if you get the chance. And it sure would be snazzy if you'd leave me a comment too! **

**-Sarak**


	2. Questions

**Disclaimer: The characters aren't mine; I'm not even improving on them. Just an alternate reality of sorts…**

An old wizard sat deep in thought in the middle of his office. The warm beautiful June sun shined through the windows, making the little silver fragments that lay spread on the floor sparkle like stained glass. Colors played on the walls as he sat up and rubbed his eyes. What he wouldn't give for a nap… Yes, a nap and new thick pair of comfy socks.

Lines of exhaustion crowded the once grandfatherly face of Albus Dumbledore; they were amplified even more as he frowned at the mention of socks. Only two people in the world ever gave him socks. His long lost brother, Aberforth and Harry Potter. Abe wasn't really long, or lost. He wasn't even as dumb or helpless as Albus made him out to be. Abe just preferred his seclusion, and thought that it was best to remain almost completely oblivious in the wizarding world. He and Albus had long ago made up the goat story; it was after Albus defeated Grindewald. People had been curious to meet the older brother of heroic-defeater-of-evil-Albus-Dumbledore. Abe had virtually disappeared after that. He was close by, giving out socks and coming out to guide when he was needed. Abe had a funny way of being there just when people needed him the most. Albus shook his head, he would never be as understanding, or as much of a leader as Abe.

But Albus could count on Aberforth sending him a thick pair of woolen socks every Christmas; however, he wasn't sure if he would get the customary pair from Harry Potter this year. Ever since that first Christmas, Harry had sent him a pair of outrageously colored socks faithfully every Christmas. Even Albus hadn't deserved them, like last year. And this year, well there'd be no telling if Albus would get a pair of socks for Christmas. The old wizard wouldn't even blame Harry if he "forgot" to send some this year. He should've seen this coming. Albus had learned the hard way that you can't protect the ones you love forever, he had learned that 70 years ago, and he was learning it again now. But even if he couldn't protect Harry forever, he would at least try. A wizard's promise was not something easily broken. Albus was just starting to drift back in time when a sharp knock on the door removed him from his thoughts.

"Come in Minerva," Albus said dully, as the door opened to reveal a stern, but somewhat puzzled black-haired woman. Alright, so the hair was flecked with gray, but no one had the heart to tell Minerva McGonagall that she needed to dye her hair. The old wizard gave her a welcoming gesture, and smiled in amusement at her puzzlement.

"My dear, in the thirty years you have been knocking on that door, it has always sounded exactly the same. Always sharp and crisp, and right to the point." Albus explained as the witch looked thoughtful and nodded. Her eyes grew puzzled and somewhat shocked as she noticed the sparkling floor. It was only then that Minerva noticed the absence of the usual silver instruments that filled the office.

"What happened, Albus?" She asked, gesturing to the mess. The old wizard sighed before giving her a faint smile.

"An old man's mistakes." He said simply. "They help me remember not to underestimate the power that a simple error of judgment can make. Now please sit, Minerva. We only need wait for Filius and Severus. Pomona's niece has taken ill, so she left early this morning." Minerva nodded as a sharp bang of the door announced the greasy professor's arrival.

"No need to wait for me, Headmaster." Snape sneered from the doorway.

"Ah! Severus! Glad to see you my boy, pleas sit." Albus gestured and offered the customary lemon drop as a faint squeak from the bottom of the stairs gave away Professor Flitwick's arrival.

"Welcome Filius!" Albus exclaimed joyfully to the small man. The Ravenclaw smiled and sat in the only vacant chair. "Well it is the end of the year at last!" Albus proclaimed joyfully. It had been only a few days since the students had left for the summer. "And an eventful year at that!" The headmaster smiled knowingly at three of his four heads.

"Well let's start with the 5th years. Shall we?" Albus made an effort to be cheerful, as Snape's ever present scowl grew deeper. The old wizard turned to Minerva first. "What have you to report on the 5th year's progress, Minerva?"

"Well, Albus, overall the year went pretty well. As you know, there are quite a few dedicated students among our 5th years. However, we really won't know their overall progress until we receive the results of their O.W.L. scores. But I expect the best…" She said rather primly, but she faded off, looking rather hesitant. Everyone looked at her expectantly; Minerva took a deep breath and turned to Professor Flitwick.

"Filius, do you remember that study that I was recently discussing with you? It was from about 6 years ago. The one where the ages where magical growth is expected to occur the most?" The little man smiled brightly and clapped his hands together.

"Of course! Everett Englemendle's study! What a brilliant student he was. He apprenticed under Smithy Penwithick, a dear friend and colleague of mine. I remember that study about magical growth." Minerva smiled encouragingly at him. "It was rather fascinating, and very believable, you can especially see Englemendle's hypothesis in our 5th years. They had tremendous power growth over last summer and this year." Flitwick said, his eyes thirsting with knowledge.

"I fail to see the significance of this, Headmaster." Snape drawled, obviously bored, Minerva glared at him.

"I was getting to that, Severus." Snape rolled his eyes and went back to staring at his fingernails; however, Minerva carried on anyways. "Well, the idea fascinated me, so I decided to give it my own test. Starting with the 5th year class, I tested their magical power and recorded it at the beginning middle and end of each year, rather than the every three years we usually do. And as of my last results, the data supports Englemendle's theory, for the most part anyways."

"The most part?" Albus asked a little troubled.

"Yes, there have been two anomalies in the data. They didn't receive the power boost that usually occurs around their fifteenth birthday. In fact, their magic levels haven't changed since they entered Hogwarts."

"Perhaps they have already reached their magical climax?" Severus asked dulled.

"Preposterous! At age 11? It is impossible!" Filius said.

"It's not possible for someone to reach their magical climax that early in life." Dumbledore said. "As a person grows, their magic grows with them."

"Most receive a majority of their power at ages 5, 11, 15, 17 and 21. In the years between those ages, a person's power still grows, but not at the rate during the other years. And after 21, you power increase slows down dramatically, most people don't even notice an increase. That's where the age restriction laws came about. They didn't want students to overtax their magical reserves while they were still growing. They made the age 16 because they thought that children would have more common sense by the time they reached that age. But that still doesn't make any sense Minerva, why would two children's magic not change at all in 4 years? "Filius ended with a question followed by a deep breath, for he had been explaining rather rapidly. Albus frowned in puzzlement.

"Who are the students, Minerva?" the old wizard asked, and Minerva grimaced before answering.

"Neville Longbottom and Harry Potter." Minerva braced herself for the impact that was sure to follow.

"I have told you from the start that they are incompetent Neanderthals!" Snape spat out. "I have long thought that Longbottom was little better than a squib and Potter is just a slacker, plain and simple. The way they can just mosey on through everything, I'll never know! You pamper that boy far too much. I'll expect he'll be even worse after he receives his O.W.L.'s and finds he's passed them despite his incompetence. Scraping by on money and fame, no doubt." Severus seethed. Flitwick stared wide-eyed in horror; he had never known the true extent of Snape's dislike. Minerva simply rolled her eyes at his speech.

"Severus! That is quite enough!" Dumbledore snapped at him. "I will not have you speaking ill of our students, no matter your personal issues." Snape glared at the floor as Dumbledore turned to Professor Flitwick. "Have you noticed anything strange about Mr. Longbottom and Mr. Potter?"

"Well as first and second years, they seemed right on track with everyone else. But as time wore on, the spells seemed to take more effort on their part, especially for Mr. Longbottom. But after time, the two would eventually get the spell. So I thought their problem might be due to a lack of theory understanding on the spell. So I just assigned them more theory work in hopes that they would be able to progress faster." Filius explained as he paused for a second.

"It is rather odd now that I think of it. Frank and Lily were two of the most brilliant Charms students I've ever had. You'd of thought that a little of their power, or talent for the subject would have passed to their sons."

"Yes…I've had many of the same thoughts regarding James and Alice in Transfiguration. You'd think that with couples as powerful as that would create more talented children." Minerva suggested thoughtfully.

"Well this _is _Potter we are talking about…" Snape scoffed loudly, yet everyone ignored him.

"Tell me, Minerva, Filius, do you remember Harry and Neville as toddlers?" The headmaster asked slyly, the two heads brightened considerably.

"Of course! I've never seen two cuter babies!" Minerva gushed. "Lily and Alice had such a handful with those two sometimes…or rather Sirius had a handful with them. You do remember the stuffed animal incident, Albus?" Dumbledore chuckled.

"Aye, that was entertaining. I don't believe I have laughed that hard in years." Albus said.

"And for a toddler to perform that much magic! Simply astounding!" Minerva said, amazed by her own memories.

"Oh yes…" Filius began. "I remember having lunch with Lily one day and little Harry and Neville were playing with toy blocks." Snape scoffed, there was nothing out of the ordinary with that, but Filius continued. "However, they were levitating the blocks wandlessly to build a toy castle! I was astounded until Lily told me that it happened all the time! I could barely believe it!"

"Why do you ask, Albus?" Minerva asked, suddenly suspicious of the headmaster.

"Just humor me please, Minerva. Now think back to just before James and Lily were killed. Was there anything odd about Mr. Longbottom and Mr. Potter then?" Dumbledore asked.

"I don't remember Neville and Harry doing any magic then…" McGonagall said, puzzled about why she couldn't remember anything.

"Neither do I." Filius said. "But it doesn't make any sense for two children that magically active to suddenly stop. And to be that powerful at that age, you'd expect them to have a lot of power now."

"But they don't…" Minerva said. "Harry is a little above average for an eleven year old and Neville is only average for an eleven year old." She explained. The three pondered this as Severus rolled his eyes.

"Isn't it obvious?" he asked, and the three just looked at him as if he was a lunatic.

"No, why don't you enlighten us Severus?" Minerva snapped back.

"It's obvious really. I'm surprised that we never saw it before. The two would have to be under a block of some kind. It's the only thing that makes sense." The slimy professor explained. Filius's eyes lit up.

"Of course! That explains it all! Lily and Alice probably put a controlling block on Harry and Neville when they were toddlers. The block probably left them with some power and then Lily and Alice most likely planned to release their power bit by bit to give Harry and Neville more control over it. I think I remember a conversation with Lily where she asked me why people stopped blocking their children's powers when they were babies." Severus looked thoughtful as Filius spoke of Lily's conversation.

"Lily wrote me a letter in June of 1981 asking for a good power blocking potion. I remember sending her information on how to brew one. I think it was the Srawshoff Block." Severus pondered his statement while the old headmaster exclaimed.

"Srawshoff? Are you sure, Severus?" The potions master nodded at him. "If she brewed that one, then that explains why we never caught it." Albus buried his head in his hands, looking considerably older than he had ten minutes ago.

"Why?" Minerva and Filius asked, looking curious. Severus took it upon himself to explain.

"The Srawshoff block was developed by Alintovis Srawshoff in 1913. The block is formulated to allow the administrator to determine how much power is blocked, and the strength of the block, based on what ingredients they choose to use. The block is so advanced that only the administrator of the potion can tell that the block is in place. The reason the Srawshoff block didn't become very popular was because the difficulty of the brew, the cost of the ingredients and the fact that only the administrator of the potion can remove the block. Srawshoff originally developed the potion for parents trying to give their children more control over accidental magic. It's rarely been used." Severus explained.

"Srawshoff did build in a fail safe, because the potion automatically removes itself fifteen years from the date of consumption." The Potions Master continued. "However, there is a rare side effect from the potion if none of the block is ever removed…"

"Jilipoly Guffrey." Albus said, his eyes wide with understanding, Severus nodded, but Minerva and Filius looked even more confused.

"About fifty years ago, this potion was administered to Jilipoly Guffrey of India when he was but a toddler. The administrator of the potion was his father. Unfortunately, his father later died before removing any of the block. His mother could do nothing to remove the block as she did not administer the potion. So the two had to wait fifteen long years before the block was removed. Under the block, Jilipoly's power nearly doubled, or tripled, it increased far more than it should have. A few days after the block was removed, Jilipoly tried to perform a complicated charm and lost control. He died from magical overdose." Albus explained.

"The Swarshoff block employs some basic muggle scientific principles. When you place a block over something, it builds up and expands. With a person's magic growing while under pressure, its increases dramatically." Severus added.

"And Lily and Alice never got a chance to remove any of the block!" Minerva said.

"And if the power they have now is just a small fraction…" Filius trailed off.

"Then we can only imagine how much they truly have." Albus finished for him.

"It's June of 1996…" Severus said, rather somber for a person like him. "Lily and Alice brewed that potion almost exactly fifteen years ago."

Snape's words sunk in as everyone in the room wondered how drastically different the two boys would be come September.

**Author's Note: Sorry abut how long it took me to get this second chapter posted. It was originally going to be longer than this too, but I've been extremely busy lately, and a lot has been distracting me from this. I've got the next chapter mostly written, but I have to type it out still. In case you were wondering, this story is set right after Order of the Phoenix. **

**-Sarak**


	3. Struggling

**Disclaimer: I am no where near cool enough to invent a character like Neville, so rest assured that I'm not making a dime. **

**Chapter 3 **

**-Struggling-**

* * *

**Longbottom Manor**

"Neville! In here darling!" The voice of Nora Eloise Bones Longbottom sounded through the house the moment fifteen year old Neville Longbottom stepped through the door. The boy's usually pleasant face contorted into a grimace at the word 'darling.' Gran almost never called him that, only when she was trying to impress someone…And by the sounds of things she wasn't alone. Neville detested being shown off like a pig at the country fair to his grandmother's friends. There had never even been much to show off in Neville's opinion, but after…. Well Nev preferred not to think about Gran's reaction to her grandson fighting death eaters along the famous Harry Potter. He could tell right now where the conversation would lead.

In no time at all the conversation would switch focus from Neville to a Frank and Alice remembrance session, with the attention mainly focused on Frank. Nora Longbottom had loved her daughter-in-law dearly, but that love was nothing compared to the pride and love she held for her only son. Neville began forcing himself towards the drawing room, and the sounds of catty old ladies.

It wasn't that Neville didn't like to hear stories about his parents, quite the opposite in fact. It was more the fact that everyone insisted on comparing him to his dad's skill or his mother's brilliance. It seemed that his grandmother saw him as Frank whenever he did something great, or noble. But the only time he was Neville in her eyes was then something went wrong; which was more often than not, he supposed. Neville could count on one hand the number of times he had made Gryffindor proud, but he had lost track of the number of times he had been the bane of their existence. He shouldn't have been in Gryffindor anyways… Dang hat! It hadn't wanted to listen when Neville said that he should be in Hufflepuff.

Neville shuffled his feet across the long empty hall. Talks with his grandmother always left him feeling kind-of dejected. He just wished that for once, she could be proud of Neville Longbottom, the Herbology lover, rather than Neville, Frank's, the auror, son. To the people in that room his parents were heroes, sacrificing themselves for the light. To Neville, his parents were just that – his parents.

Neville took another brave step towards the raucous laughter and tinkling of dainty teacups. Nev smiled awkwardly as he stood in the doorway surveying the old ladies before him. It took a loud throat clearing from Henrietta Jones for Grand to even notice him. Henrietta smiled at him in pity, upon seeing the look in Neville's eyes. His grandmother, however, brightened the moment she saw him.

"Oh Neville dear!" She gushed, leading him into the room, well more dragging than leading.

"It's so nice to have you home!" Gran said as she took the liberty of introducing all of her friends for the 567th time in Neville's life.

"You must remember Mrs. Marchbanks!" Gran pointed out her elderly friend, as the ol' bird nodded at Neville. Neville nodded back; somewhat nauseous at the thought that Mrs. Marchbanks would give him his OWL scores later that summer. Gran hadn't noticed his pale face, and had continued on.

"Oh, and Mrs. Vance is here today. And of course you know Mrs. Jones, and Ms. Perrie from the Prophet. Oh and I believe you met Mrs. Westclox, Mrs. Prewitt, Mrs. Fenwick, and of course, Ms. Hopkins from the Misuse of Magic Office?" Neville nodded dully at the rest of the ladies. They gave him small smiles of encouragement; it was plainly obvious he didn't want to be here.

"Hello." He said weakly, slightly annoyed yet still polite. His grandmother had already turned to talk to someone else. Neville resisted the urge to leave.

"Balsby," Nora was talking to Mrs. Fenwick. Mrs. Fenwick had been a rather likeable lady until her only son Benjy had died about 16 or 17 years earlier. Neville thought that she looked like the grandmotherly type… Far more than his own grandmother at least. Balsby Fenwick looked like the type of person who would bake cookies on a whim and cinnamon rolls for her grandchildren. That's why it was such a pity that she didn't have any grandchildren, since Benjy had been her only child. She had a lot of laugh wrinkles around her eyes, but Neville had never seen her laugh. She was more subdued and polite than she ought to be. She was kind-of like Professor McGonagall, Neville thought, except Mrs. Fenwick always seemed to look wistfully at Neville. But Nev supposed this was because Mrs. Fenwick would probably have had a grandchild about his age if Benjy hadn't died. Benjy had been a friend of his father's, Neville thought, but he wasn't quite sure.

"Balsby, you'll never believe what my Neville did the other day." Nora gossiped as the ladies all leaned in to listen. "My Neville was at the Ministry that day!" There was a collective gasp from the audience, and Nora smiled proudly.

"Fighting hand-in-hand alongside Harry Potter. A pair of heroes!" She gushed and Neville inwardly groaned as he imagined her next statement.

"Just like their fathers!" Nora smiled wistfully, staring off into the distance. "Frank and James made the best team! I believe the Auror Department still talked about them." Nora went on, prepared to talk about her son.

Neville shook his head, he had heard enough. He turned and walked determinedly out of the room, not looking back. He didn't need the sympathetic looks or the hero comments about his father. A large sigh from the room caught his attention just as he stepped into the hall. His grandmother's voice urged him to listen.

"Oh, I so wanted Neville to be like his father. But really, he's not. I see Alice in him more and more everyday. I'm afraid that I am turning him away from Frank. I keep telling him about how his father was a hero, hoping against hope that he'd want to be a hero too. I've hardly told him anything about Alice. Not as much as I should have." Neville's heart tightened as he heard the tears in his grandmother's voice. "I really didn't know how to be a mother to him…. I still don't. I hope to death that he doesn't resent me…" Nora cried fearfully, her voice wavering.

Neville turned and walked away towards his room. Eavesdropping was dishonest, plus he couldn't bear to hear anymore. True, everything his grandmother has said was right, but Neville felt guilty for reasons he couldn't explain. He walked in a daze back to his room, trapped in his thoughts. Before long, he found himself staring out the window in his room. The longer he stared the angrier he got. Neville hated the way people expected him to be his parents. Looking away from the window, Neville's eyes fell on a picture of him and his dorm mates from third year. Ron and Dean were arguing and gesturing to some poster on the wall, typical. Seamus was winking at some girl outside of the picture, also typical. He himself was wiping some dirt off his robes, which was sadly typical too. Neville looked at the Harry in the picture. Harry usually could be found surrounded by the other boys, rallying them into a group and posing for silly smiles. But this Harry was different. He was staring straight at the camera, the determination in his eyes never wavering. It was if he was set to prove that he could take on the world. Neville gave the picture Harry a wry smile.

Everywhere he went Harry always got comments about how he resembled his father. Neville wondered if people expected him to be an auror, or a hero like his dad. They probably did… Maybe Harry would understand how it was to be thought of as your father instead of as yourself. Neville pulled some parchment onto the desk and inked a quill. A long time ago, Neville had found that writing his emotions down helped him to get control over them. So Neville prepared to write a letter to Harry, a letter that would never be sent if Nev had anything to say about it.

Unfortunately, Lucinda, Gran's owl, watched sharply as Neville started his letter. It had been a while since she had stretched her winds. About an hour later Neville wearily put down his quill and folded up the letter, leaving it on the desk as he walked down to find something eat. As soon as Neville left the room, Lucinda flew over and clutched the letter greedily. As she left through the open window, a smirk was visible in her amber eyes. Neville would never realize it was gone.

* * *

**Number 4, Privet Drive**

Harry Potter sat glumly on his trunk, staring into oblivion. He had been staring at the blank wall for the past hour and a half. If he squinted just right the shadow looked kind of like Hermione as a cat. Thoughts of maybe being amused flickered through his head, but Harry quickly dismissed them away. It was better to sit and do nothing then to go and get someone else killed. From now on he'd be the good calm little kid that minded his own business.

That was why Harry Potter, the boy-who-lived was staring at the wall as if it was the most exciting thing life had to offer. He would've done his homework, but it was Owl year, so he had no such luck. Unpacking wasn't an option. Upon setting his eyes on Privet Drive this year, Harry had decided that it was not his home and it never would be. So why bother unpacking in a place you don't even want to be? Plus, this way, he'd already be packed for whenever he got to leave. And there wasn't much else to do, so Harry had resorted to staring at the wall.

Talking to the Dursleys wasn't an option. It was like talking to Merpeople…above water. Walking might've been okay, but there was always the risk of a stray Dementor, so it was better to just stay safe inside. Dudley would die before relinquishing the remote, plus Harry hadn't even watched TV in years anyways. Harry didn't have the slightest idea about how to work a computer, and he didn't want to tempt fate and destroy that too. Reading would've been an option, but Harry hadn't seen a pleasure book in the house since he and Dudley were in Kindergarten. Harry was the first in their class to start reading and Dudley was far behind. It didn't take long for Uncle Vernon to realize this, so reading was soon declared to be for 'weak book-loving sissies.' Dudley hadn't read a page out of school since. So that left sitting and staring at the wall at the top of the list of safe things to do.

Soon it would be dark enough to sleep and Harry could draw that out for a lot longer than necessary. Maybe the nightmares wouldn't bug him here, Harry thought longingly as he gazed at his bed. Yeah right, since when had Privet Drive been able to produce good dreams? Harry turned back to the shadows on the wall, determined to not even sleep that night. The shadows started to dance as the sun sank lower in the sky. One of them even looked kind of like an owl. Harry turned just as a stately bird soared through the open window.

Harry just stared at the bird. It usually took at least a week for people to start sending him letters. The longer Harry stared at the bird, the more peculiar it seemed. For, weirdly enough, the owl stared back, a devious smile playing in its amber eyes. Harry finally blinked and looked away; however, the owl puffed its chest smugly, looking like it had won the Olympics. Harry shook his head and grabbed the letter. He gave the owl one last questioning glance as it flew out the window, a satisfied smirk still evident in its eye. Harry opened the letter to find Neville's meticulous scrawl. Shrugging off the fact that he and Neville had never exchanged letters before, Harry bent to read it.

_Dear Harry, _

_Well, you'll probably never read this letter, so maybe I shouldn't even address it to you. Maybe I shouldn't even write it to anyone, because I don't plan on letting ever read these types of letters. _

_I realized a long time ago that it really helped me to deal with my emotions if I wrote down my thoughts and feelings. People always say that it's good to express yourself and talk to other people, but I've never been great at the whole talking to people thing, so this seemed like a good substitute. _

_I write it all down instead, and I end up feeling like I've just had a long conversation with some and that I've sorted through all my thoughts. I always address the letter to someone who I think would understand, or at least be able to understand what I am talking about. When I was younger, I'd address all of my letters to my dad. I thought that if I just wrote it down, then he'd read it and then come and save the day, like a superhero. But it was a little boy's dream, a fool's hope. When I realized that my hope would never become reality, I sat down to write a letter. However, I suddenly found myself with no one to write to. No secret pen pal, no secret confident and no real father. It was one of the saddest days of my life. _

_I have memories passed down from my grandmother and her friends, but you can't hug a memory. Besides, the stories I get to hear are all about Frank, the gallant auror and hero… not Frank the father, or Frank the husband. What do people even know about real heroes anyways? _

_My parents aren't heroes because they were torture by death eaters. They are heroes because they made a conscious decision to stand between the death eaters and their goal. My dad isn't a hero because he was an auror. He is a hero because of all the times he put someone else's life first. That's what true heroism is Harry. That makes my mum a hero, and you mum a hero, and your dad a hero too. It even makes you a hero. _

_But I didn't want to write about being a hero. I wanted to write about my dad or just parents in general. You and me are in the same boat. We'll never get to have a fight with our parents, or share a bonding memory with our dads, or hear our mums screaming at us through a howler, or even just have a simple conversation with them. WE missed all the stuff that most kids take for granted. I love my Gran, but it's like she doesn't know what to do with me. All she does is tell me stories about my heroic father. But when I sit by his bead in the hospital, I have a hard time imagining him as anything other than the empty man underneath the covers. I can't imagine what would be worse. _

_Is it worse to lose your parents to death before you even knew them, or is it worse to watch them waste away before your eyes? Is it better to live when they can't? Or would it be better to die along with them just so you can hear the sounds of their voices? Is it better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all? _

_I know that you must have been close to Sirius, your godfather, so I wonder if it would be harder to love someone and then lose them forever. Death is one of those things that doesn't really click. It hasn't for my gran yet. She doesn't realize that Frank, the auror, is gone only to be replaced with Frank, the man without a soul. I can't imagine how the memories must haunt her. To know that they will never get a chance to smile like that again, or play cards again, or watch their son go to school, or get to know the people they left behind. _

_It's like a dream Harry…but I can't wake up. It kills me to visit my parents… It kills me that I have finally given up hope. My birthday wish was always for a miracle, a miracle that would save my mom and dad. But no such luck, I've never been that lucky. It's the hardest thing in the world to realize that they aren't coming back. It's the hardest thing in the world to have someone look at you and see something else. _

_I don't know how much more of this I can take. All my grandmother sees when she looks at me is disappointment. And I've never given her reason to be proud. I'm not brave or fearless like my father. I shouldn't even be a Gryffindor. The sorting hat wouldn't listen to me when I told it to put me in Hufflepuff. It just said "Mr. Longbottom, your courage lurks behind a veil of lost potential; you'll realize it before the end." What does that even mean? I don't have courage. I can't talk to people about how I feel, and I can't even look Snape in the eye. I'll never be my father. People look at me and just feel disappointment… Maybe I should save them the trouble and just leave and never come back. Maybe I could die and be with my parents? _

_I am sick of being a disappointment. I am sick of being looked at and coming up short. I am sick of losing hope. I am sick of being me. Are things any easier for you Harry, or am I alone in my thoughts? _

_-Neville Longbottom_

* * *

**_Author's Note: _Yeah, I know... it's been a while, and the next update will probably be a while too. I am not very consistent in my writing. But I am always open to suggestions, or comments on how you think it could be better. It'd make my day if you left a review, but if you don't, well that's cool too.Oh!AndKudosto you if you can guess what song this and the next chapter are named after... I'll give yaa hint... the nextchapter is going to becalled _Forward Motion_.**

**-Sarak**


	4. Forward Motion

**Disclaimer: I only wish that I was cool enough to own Harry Potter. I'll have to settle for eating popcorn with m&ms instead.**

**Chapter 4- Forward Motion**

Harry sat in his room, struggling with the emotions the letter from Neville presented. A fierce conflict raged inside him. Happiness quenched his need for understanding. Neville understood what it was like to be branded from birth, to be seen as a reflection of someone else and not as a reality. Hope battled its way to Harry's heart, mixing with the happy understanding. Hope that together, Harry and Neville could overcome the tragedy that had been bestowed on them. Hope for a new friendship.

However, it didn't take long for the understanding hope to be pushed rudely aside, sadness taking the center stage. Sad for the shoes that Neville kept falling short of filling. Sad for the family Neville had been left with, the family who had never gotten over their first loss. But most of all, Harry was overwhelmed with guilt.

It came in unyielding waves, flooding his senses. Guilt that Harry couldn't escape. Guilt that plagued his heart. Harry was guilty of so much. Guilty of never realizing how much Neville needed someone to care. Guilty of enjoying life when his parents were dead. And guilty of living when Sirius couldn't. That guilt was the worst of all. It was suffocating. Death would be much easier than dealing with the guilt, Harry thought.

The somber boy looked at the last fading drops of sunlight reflecting off the shimmering water of the park. When he was younger, Harry had loved to sit on the bench overlooking the water. He would sit for hours and skip stones across the water or just listen to the frogs croak as they searched for mosquitoes. Harry smiled at the memory. The park had always been a nice place to think. Better than a dreary, dark bedroom anyways. Before long, Harry found himself slipping outside past a snoring Mundungus and into the night. Looking back at # 4 Privet Drive, Harry smiled to himself. _Maybe I won't bother coming back. _With that thought to brighten his face, Harry stepped into the park.

* * *

"Neville. Neville just talk to me please!" Nora Longbottom begged her grandson. 

Neville stubbornly said nothing and took another bite out of his apple. Nora sighed. Talking to Neville had never been easy. His face was a constant reminder of Alice, and his eyes practically screamed 'Frank' at her. She shook her head. Neville was usually such a docile boy, always knowing when to be quiet and when to say just a few words. But lately, he hadn't said anything. Hardly a word since he had come home. Nora hoped to death that it wasn't Alice showing up in him. That girl had always had a stubborn streak, a stubborn streak that violently clashed with Nora's own temper. More than once Frank had to play the peacemaker.

"Why do you have to be so stubborn?" Nora asked, her eyes flashing. "You mother was always like that too. She could never talk out a problem. She was too stubborn; she always tried to get her own way." Nora commented, not realizing she was feeding fuel to a hungry fire. Neville turned and openly glared at his grandmother.

"I don't know why I'm so stubborn." He said between clenched teeth, his hands balling into fists. "Maybe it's because I'm her son too!" Neville said his voice ice cold. His grandmother looked at him fearfully. Evidently Neville had inherited her temper too.

"Oh Neville!" she sobbed, clinging to his shoulder. "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean it!" "Neville glared down at her and shoved her away.

"You always told me 'Never say things you don't mean.' Maybe it's time to take your own advice." Neville walked briskly to the door. As he opened it he looked back at his sobbing grandmother.

"By the way- her name was Alice." Neville said coldly. The door slammed behind him, leaving a stunned grandmother in its wake.

Neville Longbottom gingerly surveyed his options. It was about a twenty minute walk into Hogsmeade and an hour's walk back to his grandmother. The second option didn't look very appealing.

It hadn't taken Neville long to cool off after his spat with his grandmother. He rarely blew up at people, because he mostly kept silent when he was mad. Plus writing letters had always helped him to deal with his anger, so Neville was rarely seen as angry. He supposed that he wasn't even really angry with his Gran anymore. Annoyed, maybe, but not filled with self-righteous anger. But, oh Merlin, would his Gran be mad at him. No one walked out on Nora Eloise Bones Longbottom. Neville had heard stories of her youth, where she possessed a hurtful temper. A temper that was fast to anger, and slow to forgive. A temper that his Gran still possessed today. A temper that Neville wasn't about to reckon with. Gran had always told him to face his fears head on, but no way was Neville going to tempt fate by walking into a Hornet's nest voluntarily. He was going to be dragged back, kicking and screaming if need be. Ok…Neville admitted, he wasn't one to kick and scream, but he might put up a protest.

So his only option was to hide out in Hogsmeade until Gran came looking. _Which might not happen…_A nasty voice from the back of his head reminded him. Neville sighed as he sat down on a rock to soak up the last rays of the sunset. It had been an hour since he and Gran had fought, and an hour was plenty of time to come out looking. _What if she doesn't want to find you?_ The voice suggested again. _You aren't Frank. _Neville sighed in defeat. The voice was right; his grandmother had never loved Neville for just being Neville. And Neville certainly didn't act like the son of a brave auror. Neville reminded himself dejectedly. Listing to the voices in your head sure is depressing, Neville thought wryly.

A new voice bubbled up inside him and laughed sweetly. _Well sure it's depressing, but that's only if you listen to the wrong voice. _Neville's eyes grew wide, scanning the area for someone, anyone, who could've said that. _Resistance is futile. _The voice laughed as it imitated a man's deep voice. Neville was about to smile when he remembered that it was a joke from inside his own mind. And hearing voices in your head was never good. Besides, he had better things to think about. Like if Fran even wanted him to come back. _Oh stop being so silly! Of course she wants you back. Now go home! _The voice sounded slightly irritated. Neville shook his head… it was never good to hear voices. But maybe the voice was right. Maybe he should go back. Yes, I'll go back. Neville declared out loud to the nothingness around him. He felt the voice smile inside his head, giving Neville courage to take the first step towards home.

But as he tried to life his foot, to move forward, he found he couldn't move. The seed of doubt in his mind held him steadfastly in place. Home was where the Heart was. His mother had embroidered that on Neville's baby blanket. A baby blanket that now hung in ratty strips, barely able to be called a blanket anymore. Neville sighed, looking back in the direction of his house. It wasn't his home anymore. His Gran didn't love him anymore, if she ever had. He didn't have a home anymore. Neville turned towards Hogsmeade, and away from the only home he had ever known.

* * *

Harry stared at his reflection and sighed. The scar on his forehead stood out like a sore thumb. The scar that cursed him, and cursed all of the people around him. Stupid scar, it was its fault that Sirius was dead. Harry threw the rock he had been holding at his reflection, making his scar swirl in the waves of the water. Harry gave the water a satisfied smirk, but resumed his glare when the scar returned as the water calmed. Shaking his head, he didn't hear the sound of footsteps approaching. Harry glanced up startled as an old man smiled at him in the moonlight. 

"Mind if I join you?" the man asked kindly, and Harry gave him a noncommittal shrug.

"I was just about to leave anyways." Harry said nonchalantly, the man just sat down in the empty space next to Harry.

"Looks to me that you have a lot of rocks and a pond that needs skipping." The man said, looking at the pile of rocks next to Harry on the bench. Harry looked over at the man, muttering something about senile old fools.

"We're not senile, just observant. But I'll let the old comment slide." The old man chuckled as Harry glared at him. Slowly a smile started to slide onto Harry's face, until he was chuckling too.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to be rude…It's just that…well… things have been tough lately-" the old man held up a hand to interrupt Harry. Harry just looked at him in confusion.

"You don't have to explain. I know what plagues you Harry Potter." The man said and Harry's eyes grew wide as he tried to move as far away from the old man as possible. The man chuckled again.

"I assure you, I don't bite."

"B..b..but how did you know my name?" Harry asked eying the old man as if he suspected him of biting. The man smiled.

"When you get to be as old as I am, there isn't a lot that goes unnoticed. And the development of a young wizard such as yourself would be rather hard to miss." Harry's eyes widened even more, if that was possible. The old wizard winked at him, his booming laugh sounding through the silent park. Harry gave him another calculating gaze.

"Professor Dumbledore?" Harry asked, thinking that their might be some similarities between the two men. However, the old man just threw his head back and laughed.

"I'll take that as a no…" Harry said, turning away to throw a rock across the pond. The stranger recovered from his lapse of laughter and smiled at Harry.

"Don't worry my boy; I have been mistaken for Albus on more than one occasion. You tend to pick up each other's habits after years of working together. But I must tell you that _I _like lemon drops far before Albus ever did. By the way, would you like one?" Harry just stared at the man, who chuckled once again and pulled out a candy before popping it into his mouth.

"I'll take that as a no…" He said his face puckering as he tasted the sour candy. Harry smiled at his joke.

"So who are you then? You obviously aren't Professor Dumbledore, and I know I haven't met you before. But you seem really familiar. Are you Professor Dumbledore's brother?" Harry asked innocently, but again the stranger threw back his head and laughed.

"No I'm not 'ol honest Abe. But I do believe you have heard of me. Well according to Alby you have." The man gave him a sly look, as Harry snickered at calling the head of Wizengamot a nickname like 'Alby.' His face deepened in confusion.

"Will you just tell me your name?" Harry asked in exasperation.

"No." the man said stubbornly. "But I'll give you a hint. In my youth, I wasn't often called a 'stubborn flame'." He said winking at Harry. Harry's eyes looked up as he racked his brain. A gasp escaped his mouth as he studied the man again.

"You aren't Nicolas Flamel?" Harry asked disbelief evident on his face.

"The one and the same." The old wizard gave Harry a smile.

"But you're dead!" Harry burst out, his eyes clouded. "You aren't a ghost are you?" Harry asked seriously, and for what seemed like the 100th time that night, Nicolas threw back his head and laughed.

"Things are not always as they are made out to be. I assume Albus told you that the stone was destroyed?" Harry nodded and the man continued. "The stone only provided me and my wife a way to disguise our prolonged life."

"So it doesn't really exist?" Harry asked, his brow furrowed.

"Existence is a matter of personal opinion, my boy."

"How can that be a matter of personal opinion?" Harry asked confusion evident on his face.

"If a person is alive, but they don't take any risks, or love, or live are they really alive?" Flamel asked gently. Harry nodded immediately.

"Yeah, they would be alive, sir. They aren't dead." Harry said explaining his nod. Nick smiled at the teenager.

"First off… don't call me sir. It makes me feel old." He said, and Harry laughed.

"Isn't that a bit rich coming from you?" Harry asked, and the old wizard gave him a thoughtful glance.

"I suppose it is. But please call me Flame. And back to our discussion on existence. How can you call it living if they don't do anything worth living? If they never do anything but eat, sleep and breathe, did their life have purpose?" Nicolas countered.

"Uh…" Harry was at a loss for words. Nicolas made a good point. Was it really living if you sat in a cell your whole life? Harry thought back to Neville's letter. Was it better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all? Thinking about all the pain his heart had suffered in recent days, Harry wasn't sure. Losing someone hurt… it hurt a lot. But when Harry thought of the empty space that Sirius had left behind, Harry realized that it would've been worse to have never known Sirius. He had needed Sirius and he couldn't imagine not having lived without him.

"I guess you are right. It's not really living if you don't do something with your life. But I don't see how you can relate this to whether a stone really exists or not." Harry said, not wanting to let the man win.

"Maybe that was a bad example." Nick said thoughtfully. "Have you ever heard of the Holy Grail legend?" Harry nodded, there wasn't anyone in England hadn't heard of King Arthur and the legend of the Holy Grail. "Well, do you believe it exists?" Harry nodded again; it was easy to assume that it existed.

"But you have never seen it, so how can you be sure?" the old wizard asked, and once again, Harry was at a loss for words.

"If you believe in something, then it exists in your heart. It doesn't matter if it doesn't really exist, as long as your faith is strong." The old wizard explained. Harry kicked the dirt with his shoe. That gave Harry a whole new perspective on prophesies. It doesn't matter if it is impossible, if you believe that it will happen, then it will happen. If Harry believed that he would see his parents again, or see Sirius again, then it could happen. Harry just needed hope. Hope to guide him to beat his adversary, and giving up on love wouldn't help anything. Harry needed to write Neville. It was better to love and lose, then to never know love.

"I think I may have given you almost too much to think about." Nicolas said gently, touching Harry's shoulder. Harry looked up at the somber man.

"I think I knew this all along… I just didn't want to realize it." Harry commented, and Nick sighed.

"Sometimes it takes drastic measures to make us realize what has been in front of the whole time. Sometimes you have to experience the bittersweet, and taste defeat, and then you have to brush your teeth." Harry raised an eyebrow at the old wizard.

"Brush your teeth?" The teen questioned the wisdom of the very old wizard.

"Yes, proper dental hygiene is detrimental in fighting a dark lord. Don't they teach you anything in Hogwarts these days?" Flame asked with a smile. Harry grinned back.

"No they don't. But I think I get your meaning. We have to keep moving forward even after we've been defeated." Harry said, looking out at the moon.

"Now you've got it!" Nick said, conjuring a stone and skipping a stone all the way across the pond. Harry shook his head at the old man.

"Show off."

"Hey! It took me 43 years to get the wrist flick just right." Nick looked affronted, but his gaze softened as Harry let out a yawn. "Maybe you should think about getting some sleep, young Potter?"

"Then who would bug you Flame?" Harry asked, suppressing another yawn, the old wizard chuckled again.

"My wife…Who is probably preparing a lecture for me as we speak. I could probably quote it by now though." He stood up, and gave Harry a last glance. "Don't lose hope Harry. They can take your pride, your soul, your love, your strength, but they can't take your hope." Nick started hobbling away using a walking stick that Harry hadn't noticed he had for support. Harry turned around sharply.

"Wait!" the old man turned sharply to look at Harry. "I never said thanks. I was close to… well close to doing something that would have been harmful to my health, and you helped me realize some things." Harry said and Flame help up a hand to stop him yet again.

"No thanks are necessary. Everyone needs some optimism every once in a while. Until next time." The old wizard tipped his hat to the teen. Harry looked at him in confusion.

"Next time?"

"Oh yes! I'll be around. You didn't think that you could get rid of me that easily did you?" Harry laughed and was about to say no, when he realized the man had vanished without a trace. It was almost like he had never been there. Harry shrugged and made his way back to Privet Drive, hoping that Dung was still snoring.

* * *

A cranky bartender stepped out of the Hog's Head just after sunset. It had been a long day. Well any day in the Hog's Head was a long day, but at least tonight he didn't have to deal with any hags that didn't want to leave, he thought, stepping out the door and into the night and headlong into Neville Longbottom. 

"Watch where you are going!" The bartender growled as the boy fell into the dirt. A flash of light showed the youth of the boy's face and the bartender sighed. He didn't want to deal with this tonight. But nevertheless, he gave a hand to the boy, who glared at it and stood up with no help from the hand. The bartender rolled his eyes; he definitely wasn't in the mood to deal with moody teenagers tonight.

"So you aren't even going to say thanks?" The man called after the boy, who just remained silent. The bartender regretted ever stepping out of the bar. "Aren't you a little young to be going in there?" He asked the boy, putting a hand on the door, preventing the kid from entering, but still the kid was silent. The bartender almost groaned. He was not good with kids.

"Maybe you should head on home boy. The Hog's Head isn't exactly a friendly place for the likes of you." The bartender said gruffly, sizing the boy up. The boy's clear blue eyes turned to ice as they glared at him.

"I don't have a home, now let me in." The teen said between clenched teeth. The bartender almost laughed… oh to be young and angry. It had been a very long time since he had been young.

"I'm sure there is someone who must be missing you." He said peacefully, never moving his hand from the door. The kid made to grab for it, but the bartender was too quick for him, and soon restrained the boy from entering.

"I don't want your pity!" the boy snarled, his eyes blazing.

"Then you won't get it." The bartender shot back.

"Then let me go, what do you even care?" Neville asked, the anger not leaving his eyes.

"I've watched too many people throw their life away. I'll not watch you do the same. Face whatever demon it is that haunts you, but don't go in there. It won't help you. You'll end up a sorry excuse for a human being if you go in there." The bartender looked straight into Neville's eyes.

"What would you know? You don't know anything about me!" Neville shouted, and the bartender looked away.

"I was in your shoes once." He said so softly that Neville almost didn't hear him. "I ran away from home. I ran away from everything. I couldn't bring myself to face my problems. I was about your age too."

"I'm not running away from home." Neville declared softly, the stranger laughed.

"Oh yes you are. I've seen that look before. The determination in your eyes says it all. I bet you tried to go back, but you couldn't. So you mustered up your courage to face this instead. You made the wrong use of your courage, son." The bartended looked at Neville sadly.

"Hear. Sit." The bartended guided Neville to the empty bench in front of the pub. "Just listen, and if you still want to run away when I'm done, then I'll let you go and ruin your life." Neville glared at the man.

"I am not going to ruin my life." He said his eyes blazing.

"Sure you aren't." The bartender chuckled. "So let me tell you a story. I was your age once." He started.

"Yeah, I bet." Neville muttered under his breath, and the bartender smiled.

"You got spirit kid, and I like that. But sit and listen a damn minute. When I was your age, I was sick of everything around me. My younger brother and I lived with our grandparents. And my grandmother hated me. I was everything that her son, my father, was not. She didn't let her animosity be known, but I knew it was there." He said, noticing Neville flinch suspiciously when he said 'grandmother', but the old man continued anyways.

"My father died fighting in the Great War, and our mother committed suicide not too long afterwards. I don't think my grandmother had ever liked my mother. My mother was a half-blood, and probably not good enough for my father in her eyes. And I was almost a carbon copy of my mother. I had her spirit, her face, her stubbornness, and I had her temper. My little brother couldn't have been more perfect in her eyes. He looked just liked our father, the brave hero. And he was more of the peacemaker type." The bartender gave Neville a wry smile, as the boy was leaning forward in interest. This story held far too many parallels to his own. It was almost creepy.

"It was the summer of '33. My brother and I were home on summer break. I was a 6th year, and he was a 4th year. It was my first summer with a girlfriend, I thought I loved her. My grandmother didn't approve of who I had picked to love. She refused to speak to me. It wasn't too long before I got tired of being ignored. I wanted attention, so I began to lash out in any way I could. I got in trouble, joined a gang, but she still wouldn't speak to me. Finally, I just confronted her. I will never forget that conversation for as long as I live. We fought, loudly and bitterly. She eventually ended up insulting everything that I had ever known or loved. I left in a rage. I stormed right past my little brother, who had watched the whole scene with tears in his wide blue eyes. He begged me to not leave him as I shoved my things into bags, but I left anyways.

I stormed away to this very bar, wondering what I should do next. I sat on this very bench for hours just staring at the door, not wanting to go in, but too cowardly to go back home. I couldn't force my feet back. It was then that I met Flame. He was an old guy, back then, and even older now. For some reason I trusted him, and I rarely trusted anyone. I still remember what he said to me."

'_Son, there has never been a day when it was right to run away from your problems.' He said gently, not wanting to push me. _

"_Well today is the day that it becomes right.' I snarled back at him, and Flame just smiled back at me and offered me some Muggle candy, and then he set me straight._

'_There will come a day that someone will need you, but you won't be there for them. I sincerely hope that today is not that day.' And then he stood up, tipped his hat to me, and said that he would be nearby, and then he left. _

"I sat there for the rest of the day, just staring at the door to this place. The sun was setting just as I realized that I didn't want to let my grandmother win. And by running away, I was letting her win. I hated myself for being too much of a coward to stay. I realized that Flame was right, my brother might need me at this very moment but I wasn't there. I hated myself at that moment. I realized that I needed to be home. So I put a flying charm on the goat next to me and flew home. But by the time I was home, it was almost too late. I returned to find the house in flames. My grandfather was dead on the doorstep, and my grandmother close to death. She used her last words on me, the grandson she had always hated. _'I was afraid that if I let myself love you then you would die just like him. I am so sorry. Take care of your brother, and remember that I always loved you.' _It wasn't until later that I realized why she hadn't let herself love me. I ran to find my brother, and I found him hiding under my bed, terrified to come out. We barely made it out before the house fell apart. We never saw our grandparents again. We were alone in the world. My brother, the one who had always been so faithful, shoved away from me, blaming me for not being there when the house was attacked. I let him walk away, something that I have regretted everyday of my life. It was seven years before I saw him again." The old bartender said, his voice quieter than the whispering wind by the end of the story, a slight tear falling from his bright blue eyes.

"I never forgave myself for letting my emotions get control of me. I never forgave myself for running away. And I never forgave myself for not being there when I was needed. I won't let you hate yourself like I did." The man said, his voice growing firmer with each word. Neville looked down at the ground.

"I don't think I have enough courage to go back." He said softly, all of rage gone. The old man smiled at him.

"You wouldn't be a Gryffindor if you didn't have courage." He said logically, smiling at the wide-eyed teen.

"How did you know I was a Gryffindor?" Neville asked him.

"There isn't much that escapes me, Neville." The bartender said with a smile as Neville gasped when he heard his own name.

"But I never told you my name! And by all rights, you haven't told me yours." Neville said.

"You can call me Wolf. And no, I am not a werewolf." He said noticing the question on Neville's face. "But I believe that you have more courage then you give yourself credit for. It takes more than you think to have not cracked under your parent's illness, and your own grandmother. It might be hard to go back, but it is not impossible."

"But what if she doesn't even want me back?" Neville said, trying to ignore the urge to question him about how he knew Neville's personal history.

"Is it really the end of the world if she doesn't?" The bartender asked gently, Neville didn't know what to say.

"Trust me Neville, she does love you. Deep down, she really does love you. She isn't as brave as you. She has never forgotten her son, much as my grandmother never forgot her son. She is afraid that if she loves you as much as she loved him, then you will disappear forever like he did. Her fear holds her back, it controls her. But don't let her fear control you." The bartender's bright blue eyes shined into Neville's, giving him confidence. Neville took a deep breath and met the man's gaze. A determined look appeared on his face.

"It won't control me. I won't let it. I am better than that." Neville said and the bartender chuckled.

"I knew you had it in you… You just had to find it. Now I believe you have a date with a fireplace and some Floo powder?" Neville nodded and the two set off into the Hogs Head, ignoring the goat munching on the grass behind the fence.

The goat turned and smiled at the pair as the left. The goat's unnaturally bright blue eyes twinkled as the old bartender gave it a wink. The goat scampered off in the direction of Hogwarts, a smile still playing in its eyes.

* * *

**Author's Note: Let me know what you thought, and I'd love some ideas! Thanks! **

**-Sarak**


	5. Subtle Reflections

Chapter 5

**Subtle Reflections**

* * *

**Disclaimer: All I own is a broken lawn mower, an empty gas tank, and a dang comfy pair of cowboy boots; but not Harry Potter. **

* * *

_Longbottom Manor_

Neville started at the mirror across the entrance hall from the fireplace. The same fireplace that he had walked out of just ten minutes prior. You'd think that someone would have realized that he was home by now. Someone like his Grandmother, maybe one of the house elves, or even that damn bird. But nope. No one was waiting. No one was there to say _"Oh Neville! We were worried sick!" _No one was there to welcome him into their arms as they commanded him to never scare them again. The long hallway was dark, empty even with only the glowing embers of the forgotten fire to light it. It was kind of depressing.

Neville shifted his weight, trying not to make too much noise. If he made much noise then they'd realize he was back. Neville stared at his dull blue gray eyes. They had never sparkled like Professor Dumbledore's had, or glowed in excitement like Ron's, or steeled themselves' determination like Harry's. His eyes were dull, gray, and ordinary, not even a spark of life in them to keep somebody interested. Neville's gaze returned to the mirror and focused once more on his eyes. His gray eyes. It was often said that eyes are the window to the soul. If that was true, then I must have a pretty boring soul, he told himself. Neville's thoughts turned back to Wolf, the mysterious old man from the pub. He just knew that he had met him somewhere before. That face was too familiar, and those eyes too distinct to forget. Those bright blue energetic eyes. What Neville would give to have those eyes. Those were the kind of eyes that could hold a person in your gaze without saying a word. Those were the kind of eyes that people had to be brave to look into, for they risked seeing their own mistakes within the depths of them. Those were the kind of eyes Neville wanted. Eyes that would make people think: _"He has a tough soul, that boy." _Or _"Such pretty eyes, and such strong determination! What he must've gone through to lose his innocence." _But Neville didn't want pity. He didn't want someone to look at him and see the eternal sadness that a lifetime of grief had placed in his eyes.

That was part of the reason he was standing in the entrance hall, making no effort to be noticed. He didn't want his grandmother to come down and look at him with that knowing pity in her eyes. Or for Twilly, their house elf, to look at him with those sad eyes and wistful smile that somehow told him that he didn't have love, all he had was their pity. But pity wasn't love. It didn't even come close. It doesn't take much to pity your enemy, in fact, it is pretty easy. But it takes a heck of a lot more to love someone, especially your enemies. Neville looked around the dark room, everything cloaked in shadows. The fine furnishings and elaborate hangings screamed out their coldness to him. The only thing that Neville even liked in this room was the mirror. The mirror that is father had made when he was twelve and had carved his initials into the side. That was the only touch of home in this room. But the whole house was that way. The whole house screamed wealth and prestige, but nothing of home. He felt more at home and welcome in the Janet Thickley Ward then here at home. They did say that home was where the heart was. But his heart hadn't been here for a long time. It was time to move on. Neville nodded to his reflection in the mirror. The gray eyes glinting in determination.

A little pain held him back. Wolf. Wolf had said that he had courage. It wasn't exactly courageous if he couldn't even move out of his own entrance hall. He felt like he was letting Wolf down. Wolf wouldn't hate him for visiting his parents though, would he? No, Neville thought. Wolf wouldn't mind him visiting his parents. But he would be disappointed. Disappointed because Neville was running away again. But this wasn't really running away, was it? Neville asked himself. This was just a 'visit'; he would deal with his grandmother when he got back. Well if he came back. One last look at the reflection with the dull blue gray eyes and Neville was climbing into the green flames.

There was something in those gray eyes; something that Neville didn't want to admit was there. Something that no one wanted to see in their eyes. In their soul. Something that was worse than all the other evils in this world. Something that would kill a man slowly, taking away everything that he ever needed. An evil so great that very few possessed it in its true form. An evil that could drive a person to death, to suicide. An evil that Neville wanted to pretend wasn't in his life, and evil that Neville didn't want to see lurking in his eyes. An evil that knew no other name than loneliness, forced loneliness. It was the saddest thing in the world to know that you are all alone, to know that no one truly cares. To wonder if you died tomorrow, would anyone even mourn? That was the evil that Neville faced. And in so many ways, it was an evil greater than any that Lord Voldemort could throw at Harry Potter. Neville just hoped that Harry didn't have to face this evil too. The evil of true loneliness, the feeling that no one cared if you ever grew up and did something to be proud of. No one except an old man with mysterious blue eyes, who went by the name of Wolf, and he just wanted to make sure that you didn't ruin your life. But it was a little too late for that now, wasn't it? His life had been ruined fifteen years ago. His life had been ruined the moment Lord Voldemort decided to kill a little baby named Harry Potter. The moment that the Longbottoms became the next target and Neville was left without someone to quench his thirst for love.

* * *

Nora Longbottom walked through the lonely halls of a dark, formal house. Her eyes moved around listlessly, wandering all around as she walked. Every now and then she stopped to stare into another unused room to make sure Neville wasn't hiding in there. Nora Longbottom usually had a dignified, no nonsense kind-of walk. She walked straight with her head held high and her eyes always held purpose within them. But today she lacked all of that. Her walk revealed her true personality as she roamed the halls of Longbottom Manor. Her shoulders slumped forward like a disgruntled teen. Her eyes were wide and wandering with a frantic emotion playing in them. The rest of the emotions on her face weren't discernable, because you couldn't get past her eyes. Her eyes held such emotion that poured out in trembling waves as tears streamed silently down her face. As she turned the last knob of the last door in the cold, unwelcoming hallway a faint whisper could be heard.

"Please be here Neville." The elderly lady wished almost silently. But the door opened and she was left to gaze into another dusty empty room.

Closing her eyes, Nora Longbottom sank to the floor, all traces of dignity left behind. And for the first time in her life, Nora Longbottom broke down and cried. She had cried before, but before her cries had always had some hope left in them, she had never fully given herself away to the emotions that haunted her. However, with the disappearance of her grandson, Nora had forgotten her hope, she let it leave her, and she let the desperation take hold. Tears streamed down her face, but no wails came from her mouth. Memories flashed before her eyes, and guilt clouded over her heart. Nora wrenched her eyes shut in frustration, but it wasn't that easy. Guilt wasn't going to leave her that easy. She was going to have to pay for grief she had caused. She would have to live over every moment of heartbreak she had caused Neville. Again and again she would relive them, until her crime was paid. Only then would she be free. Only then could the guilt leave her. Only then could she hope to make things right.

* * *

Twilly hovered at a distance, her heart pained. Most people didn't know that when house elves bound themselves to a house, they bound themselves to every occupant in that house. Every emotion felt by the people of that house was felt twice by the small house elves in service. Right now, Twilly was pained beyond measure. The grief pouring off Mistress Longbottom was overbearing. It made tears well up in Twilly's eyes. And the young Master Longbottom wasn't much better. When he had left, meaning not to return, Twilly's heart had broken. House elves lived off the love for home, and when Neville had declared that Longbottom Manor was no longer his home, his love had been forcefully torn from Twilly's heart. He does not know what he does, Twilly thought stubbornly. He must know that he has to come back.

Without a glance at the Mistress her heart longed to comfort, Twilly left, determined to find someone to restore her house.

* * *

Neville surveyed the lobby of St. Mungo's with distaste. He had never understood the point of visiting hours, if someone was going to live out the rest of their days in the hospital, then what was the point of keeping their family out? That was why Neville was currently hiding behind one of the ratty armchairs in the dark lobby.

A few years back, Neville had snuck in at midnight to see his parents. After that first time, it just kept getting easier and easier. Over the years he had determined the best way to avoid the night guards and the suspicion a lone boy in the hallways aroused. It was a pretty simple plan, actually. All you had to do was find the red arm chair with the cushion with extra springs in it. The very same arm chair that Neville was crouched behind.

Peeking around the chair, Neville saw the guard turn around and go out through the door.

"Perfect." Neville whispered and climbed up on the chair. If you bounced just right on this chair, then it would push you up to the rafters of the visiting wing. From there, all you had to do was hoist yourself up into the air vent. And then you were home free. With a practiced ease, Neville was in the air vent and creeping silently towards the second floor hallway. Pushing up the floor tile, Neville looked around. It was all clear. It always was too. It was way too easy to break into St. Mungos. If a fifteen year old could do it, then wouldn't a death eater be able to do it too? Neville shook his head as he dusted himself off. The air vent wasn't exactly clean. A quick stroll over to uniform lockers and Neville was set. No one would think anything of an absentminded doctor on their way up to the fourth floor, and that was just what Neville appeared to be in the lime green healer robes.

* * *

Neville threw the robes aside in distaste. Whoever had thought of making them lime green had obviously had a bit too much fire whiskey. However, Neville smiled at the silent hospital room before him. Ok, so it wasn't so silent. Lockhart's snores could wake the dead, but otherwise the room was devoid of any sound. Neville crept forward, timidly approaching his parents' beds. He smiled as he saw his mother watching his every move. She never said anything, but she was always watching him. Neville liked to think that she knew it was him, and that she wanted to make sure someone was taking care of her little boy. He reached out to give her a hug, but her body resisted. Her eyes however, locked on to the gray-blue of Neville's. Neville stared into her eyes, transfixed by the way the gray swirled into blue. He just stared into her eyes, and the swirling mists stared back at him.

_ Look at him… All grown up. I only wish I could have an hour with him. One hour! Is that too much to ask? _

Neville swirled around, looking for the source of the noise. The room was still silent, save Lockhart's snoring. The voice must've come from somewhere though. He was sure he didn't imagine it. Or maybe he had. The voice sounded exactly like what he pictured his mother would sound like, if she had ever cared to talk. He looked at his mother in expectation, maybe she had finally talked! But Alice Longbottom just fiddled with the button of her nightgown, and looked up to give Neville a goofy smile. Neville gave her a reluctant smile, but his shoulders slumped forward. He hadn't heard his mother. He had just imagined everything.

_ Oh Nev. I love you. I really do. I wish you could hear me say it. _

Neville leaned forward, staring deeper into his mother's eyes. He hadn't imagined that. But how? How could an insane woman talk? Unless she wasn't talking. But that would mean he was hearing voices, and that was never a good thing. Neville's curious eyes probed hers, searching for answers. The door rattled loudly, and Neville dove for the floor, his ears alert to see who was there. No death eater was going to kill his parents.

"Open this door!" A woman's voice commanded and the door rattled again.

"Lady, I told you already! It's past visitin' hours. You can't go in there." A man's voice gave a warning.

"Watch me!" The lady said hotly. "There is a fifteen year old boy missing somewhere in this country, and if you don't let me in there then I swear you will not live to see the sun rise."

"Calm down lady. Nobody's gone in there all night, except for maybe Ernie. No fifteen year old kid could get past the guards down in the lobby anyways. I'm tellin' yah, there is no one in there. No one except for a bunch of wackos."

"They _are NOT _wackos!" She fumed at the guard. "Now open this door or by Merlin, I will charge you for kidnapping." The woman threatened the guard.

"Geez. No reason to get all ancy about it. Just calm down lady, it'll only take me a second. But I'm tellin' yah, there ain't anybody in there."

"Just open the bloody door." Neville heard keys rattling in the lock, and a moment later the door swung open, and heels clicked across the floor.

"See, nobody here. Yah happy now, lady?" But the lady didn't answer. She had stopped in the middle of the ward. She had stopped to stare straight at the boy hiding under the bed, wishing not to be seen.

"Oh, Neville." She said softly, and Neville poked his head out from under the bed. Slowly he crawled out from the bed and straightened. The guard at the door gasped. But the lady silenced him with a furious glare.

"Oh, Neville. It's alright. You didn't have to hide. I understand." She said as she enveloped Neville in a hug. Neville couldn't help the tears streaming down his face.

"I'm sorry. I just… I couldn't stay there. It was too much." He whispered.

"It's ok Neville, I understand. Everything will be alright." She said, rubbing his back as the guard backed cautiously out of the room. Neville's blue gray eyes swirled in a torrent of different emotions as they stared up into the chocolate brown eyes of Hestia Jones.

"I… I didn't think she'd want me back." Neville whispered very slowly, his eyes turning to look at the floor, as if he had just been caught stealing cookies from a cookie jar.

Hestia stared down at the boy in horror. How could it have come to this? Where had she been? She had made a promise, a promise that she never kept. A pact formed between three eleven year old girls at midnight on Halloween all those long years ago. How could she have failed Alice? How could she have failed Neville, Harry and Lily? Lily would have never done this. Lily would have never forgotten to care for Neville if she had been here. Alice would be turning in her grave if she had one, knowing that Hestia had never taken the time to look after the two boys she had sworn to watch over. Alice and Lily would have never let Hestia's children, if she had had them, grow up alone, without a mother's love. They would have never let the sadness fall into Neville's eyes and soak them up if they had been here. Hestia had failed.

"D..d…did they want me?" Neville's bottom lip quivered, his eyes trembling with unshed tears as he looked down at the floor and then into Hestia's eyes. She grabbed him and pulled him into her arms.

"Yes." She murmured. "They wanted you. They wanted you so much Neville. You were everything to them." She said softly, letting the teenager cry in her arms, her own tears clouding her vision as she stared at the friend she had failed.

_ I'm sorry Alice, I failed you…You and Lily both. _Hestia mouthed, looking her friend straight in the eyes as she held Alice's son. The son that Alice should have been holding. The son that should have been held like this a long time ago. The son that showed Hestia's failure as a friend.

Hestia's eyes locked with Alice's again. She could almost see the disappointment that would be there if Alice had any idea about Hestia's betrayal. Hestia was about to look away when she realized it was never too late to start keeping a promise. Maybe she hadn't been there before, but she could sure start.

_ I'll do it Ali, I'll be the mom you couldn't. _Hestia whispered to herself as she stared in Alice's blank eyes. _And Lily, I promise that your little boy won't be alone. Not anymore. _

As Neville cried out his tears of bitter frustration on to Hestia's shoulder, he heard the same soothing voice from before.

_ Thank you Hessie. I knew you'd figure it out before the end. You've always had it in you, you just didn't know where to look for it. _

Hestia closed her eyes as she felt the peace flow though her, and a deep calming breath calmed her frazzled nerves. Turning his head, Neville saw his mother sporting that same goofy smile, and the same blank eyes. But beyond those eyes was something more. A whole person waited behind them, just minding their time until you took the time to look for what had been their all along.

* * *

**Author's Note: **_Sorry? There really is no excuse for being so long in posting this. I guess I kind of ran out of inspiration there for a while. But your reviews helped a lot. I can't tell you how much I look forward to opening my inbox after I post a chapter. So thanks so much to everyone who reviewed. It's also come to my attention that I have various mistakes… and I read over the first chapter and cringed. I guess when I am reading through it I don't catch the little mistakes, because I already know what I am trying to say. But that prolly doesn't work too well for the rest of you. So sorry about that. I'll try to work on it. But thanks again for reviewing. I'll try to make the next chapter a lot longer, but it won't be out for a while. A long while probably. I am going to Texas pretty soon, and then on vacation after that. But maybe I'll surprise you and get another chapter out this weekend…But don't forget to go see the hotness of Orlando Bloom in the new Pirates of the Caribbean movie on Friday! Happy reading! _

_-**Sarak **_

_**11:59 PM June 30, 2006**_


	6. Wolf?

**Disclaimer: **If I owned Harry Potter, than I wouldn't waste my time sitting in a dinky town and getting a headache from exhaust fumes and cigarettes. (So it's safe to say that I don't own Harry Potter.)

* * *

**Chapter 6**

Wolf?

* * *

Albus Dumbledore looked down at the letters in front of him and sighed. He knew what they would say; there really wasn't any point to opening them. Albus could already see the chiding remarks in his head. It wasn't everyday that he received both a letter from his brother and his good friend Nicolas Flamel, who mind you was supposed to be dead as of four years ago. That in itself was a bit creepy, but Albus had a feeling that Nick had never told him the full story as far as the Sorcerer's Stone was concerned.

The old wizard looked at his pocket watch, and smiled dully. His pocket watch was a more elaborate version of the Weasley's family clock, except his watch contained only one family member, his brother. Only four other people had ever been important enough to merit a spot on Albus Dumbledore's watch, not that they even knew it. Severus Snape, Minerva McGonagall, Nicolas Flamel, and Harry Potter. Harry's hand was the most interesting to observe, it gave a person a lot of insight as to Harry's character. Harry's hand was currently pointed at visiting, but that wouldn't make sense to the casual observer, since Privet Drive was indeed Harry Potter's home. However, Harry Potter was anything but ordinary. His hand only pointed to home when ever the boy was at Hogwarts or the Burrow. Harry was truly an example of how home is where the heart it.

A look of comprehension suddenly dawned on the old man's face. _Home is where the Heart is. _If Harry's heart wasn't with the Dursleys then he wasn't home. If Harry couldn't call the Dursleys home… Then the wards wouldn't work. Albus Dumbledore practically flew down the stairs and across the grounds.

In a distant window, somewhere by the Gryffindor Tower, Minerva McGonagall watched the rushing man, a smile playing on her lips. It was about damn time that he realized what had always been right in front of him. Blood wasn't nearly as important as Love. Blood can't cause Love, but Love can cause Blood to be shed, or reborn. Humming a song she had once heard, Minerva went back to her chocolate chip pancakes. Her thoughts were occupied with the people she had once loved, and the child that she had grown to love. Love was truly powerful, she thought as she poured more Strawberry Syrup on her pancakes.

* * *

_**Privet Drive.**_

* * *

Albus Dumbledore surveyed the house before him with a crinkled nose. This currently wasn't a house where one would expect to find peanut butter cookies waiting, or a bowl of lemon drops on the coffee table. It wasn't a house where you'd expect to find Harry Potter either. That was one reason why the house was so perfect. It was so ordinary; one wouldn't expect to find such an extraordinary boy in such an ordinary house on an ordinary street. Albus took a deep breath as he walked up the garden walk, meticulously lined with petunias with not a lily in sight. The old wizard was rarely nervous, but today he was. After all it wasn't everyday that you had to face someone you'd disappointed and tell them that you've decided to change their life for forever.

* * *

"Harry…. Harry wake up!" Albus whispered to the sleeping boy. The boy sat straight up, his hair messier than normal.

"W..wh..what?" Harry asked groping for his wand. Albus chuckled and handed the boy his glasses. Harry slid them onto his nose and blinked. Then did a double take, because it wasn't everyday that you found the headmaster in your bedroom waking you up at 5:54 in the morning. Wait? What the heck was anybody doing waking him up at 5:54 in the bloody morning?

"What are you doing here Headmaster?" Harry said rubbing at his eyes.

"Ah… Haven't you read your ministry pamphlet?" the old wizard motioned to the crumpled booklet that had landed suspiciously near the garbage can in a shape that looked suspiciously like a ball.

"Bloody waste of paper." Harry mumbled, before his eyes widened. "Whoops. Sorry Professor." The wizard chuckled again.

"I am quite inclined to agree, Harry. But many people take those pamphlets quite seriously. So for future reference, my favorite jam is raspberry." The old wizard said winking in Harry's direction.

"Uh… My least favorite food is peppermint humbugs?" Harry offered weakly. The headmaster shook his head sadly.

"Pity, I find them quite tasty. But that is not the reason I am here."

"Why are _you _here… at 5:58 in the morning?" Harry asked rather pointedly.

"A rather excellent question, Harry. You see, I am in possession of a rather unique pocket watch, and it led me to realize something that I believe I have known for quite some time."

"And that is?"

"That you are not at home here, Harry. So I have come to take you to Hogwarts that is if you want to leave. I will not force you to leave here Harry."

"Force me? Are you kidding? I've only dreamed about this day for years." Harry said rather sarcastically. Dumbledore gave a sad smile.

"Something I should have realized quite some time ago, my boy. Please forgive an old man his rather dumb mistake." Dumbledore said.

"I will if you help me pack." Harry said holding out his hand. The twinkle came back full force as Albus Dumbledore and Harry Potter shook hands for the first time as equals.

"That sounds like a fair bargain to me." With one wave of his wand, the old wizard had everything packed into Harry's trunk.

"Shall we go Harry?" The old wizard asked. Harry gave him self a once over in the mirror.

"I'm afraid I'm not dressed for the occasion sir." Harry said rather apologetically, for he was still clad in pinstriped pajamas. Dumbledore smiled again, and with another wave of his wand Harry's pajamas turned into jeans and a _Raging Warlocks _t-shirt.

"You've heard of the _Raging Warlocks_?" Harry asked incredulously, as he followed the professor out into the hall.

"Just because a person may look old, does not mean that they do not keep up with modern music." Dumbledore said, floating Harry's trunk down the stairs.

"Oh. I just had you pegged for a Tom Petty kind of guy, that's all." Harry said.

"Well I am rather fond of Tom Petty." The old wizard said with a wink in Harry's direction.

"Professor, can I ask you as question?"

"You just did, but you can surely ask another." Dumbledore said holding out a portkey.

"If Nicolas Flamel is older than you, then how come he looks so much younger than you?" Harry asked touching his finger to the portkey. The last thing he saw before he felt the familiar pull at his navel was the great Albus Dumbledore choking on a lemon drop.

* * *

"Sir, sir? Are you ok?" Harry asked, trying not to laugh. His esteemed headmaster, a heroic icon to most of the wizarding world, was on his knees trying to cough out a lemon drop. With one last cough, the wizard stood up.

"Quite alright, just a bit of a coughing spell there." Albus said, brushing the dust off of his robes.

"I always said that those things would be the death of you." A voice said, and Harry whirled around to find himself looking into a very familiar face, but he just couldn't place where he had seen it before. Albus frowned at the man.

"Did you get my letter Brian?" The man asked. "I assume that's why you are here, except you seem to be in possession of the wrong boy." Harry looked around, trying to figure out where they were. There was a manor not but two hundred feet away, and a familiar mountain range beyond that, but otherwise, the surrounding were new to Harry.

"I thought I told you not to call me Brian." Albus said.

"Why not? Have you gotten so high that your childhood name is no longer worthy of you?" The other man's voice was ice.

"If it is no longer worthy, than it is not because I have gotten so high, it's because you have sunk so low that you are no longer worthy to say that name." Albus said back, glaring at the man, who was already glaring at Albus. Harry idly looked at the ground twiddling his thumbs. This was not a conversation he wanted to be part of.

"Old grievances die hard." The stranger said. Harry gaped openly at the two men, all thoughts of twiddling gone from his mind. Harry suddenly realized where he had seen the man before. He was the bartender from the Hog's Head. Albus began to smile, his eyes twinkling, and finally through back his head in laughter. The other man soon joined him.

"Ah… I have missed your sarcasm." Albus said and the two men embraced like brothers. "I see you have read your Ministry Pamphlet." Albus said wisely.

"Bloody waste of paper." The man mumbled under his breath. Harry just stared wide eyed at him. The stranger laughed at the sight of him.

"Forgive me my manners, boy. Brian seems to have forgotten his as well. You can call me Wolf." The stranger held out his hand, and Harry took it after an encouraging smile from his professor.

"I'm Harry. Are you a Were-" Harry was interrupted by Albus's chuckling.

"I told you that nickname would prompt some rather bothersome questions." Albus told Wolf, who shook his head.

"It's an admirable nickname, in my opinion. But no, I am not a werewolf. You have nothing to fear from me." The wizard said, his eyes twinkling.

"I don't fear werewolves, only what they can become." Harry retorted his eyes hard. Wolf chuckled.

"Where'd you find this kid Brian?" Albus chuckled and Harry glared at the stranger. "Nothing against you kid. You got spunk and I like that. First you start an illegal club in my pub, and then you mouth off to a friend of a very powerful man. Courage is too rare a thing these days. Mind that you don't lose it." A small silence fell on the group as Harry contemplated apologizing for his rude manners, but before he could Albus broke the silence.

"So what are you doing here Wolf?" Albus asked his eyes serious.

"Visiting a friend." Wolf said looking Albus in the eye.

"Since when have you and Nora Longbottom been on friendly terms?" Albus questioned the man, Wolf scowled.

"That old bird? Who has ever been on friendly terms with her?" He scoffed. Harry looked around the property with a newfound fascination. This was where Neville lived.

"Watch who you call old bird. She's at least fifteen years younger than you." Albus said his eyes filled with mirth.

"But she acts thirty years my senior." Wolf whined, and even Harry chuckled at that one.

"So you must be here to see young Mr. Longbottom then." Albus questioned.

"Nope. I'm here to see the house elf." Wolf said sarcastically. "What'd you think I'd be here for? You practically pushed us together you nosy old goat." Wolf accused, while Albus's eyes twinkled bright.

"I don't have the faintest idea about what you are talking about." Albus said.

"I don't have the faintest idea about what you are talking about." Wolf mimicked, in a rather higher voice than Dumbledore possessed. "Don't give me that Brian." Wolf said, his voice edging towards starting a fight.

"Well let's not keep the Longbottoms waiting, shall we?" Albus said merrily, taking a long stride towards the house. Wolf sighed and followed the man, Harry not far behind, almost jogging to keep up.

"What do we need to see the Longbottoms for?" Harry asked, catching up with the aging headmaster.

"Time will tell, my boy." Albus said, giving Harry a twinkling smile. Harry rolled his eyes; those twinkling eyes could give a person a headache after a while.

* * *

Wolf strode right up to the front door, his hand on the door knob, eager to turn it to go inside; however a chiding remark stopped him.

"Have you no manners?" Albus asked, clearly shocked.

"Manners are for pansies." Wolf accused as Harry snickered behind the two. Wolf turned to glare at him. "And children." He said pointedly at Harry.

"Well then why don't you have them?" Harry asked cheekily.

"I am no pansy." Wolf remarked his nose upturned.

"I didn't say you were a pansy." Harry grinned at the wizard.

"If I am a child, then what does that make you? A toddler perhaps?" Wolf asked him. Meanwhile Albus had snuck around the two arguing three year olds and towards the door. Quickly he knocked three times. Harry and Wolf stopped talking mid-sentence to stare at the door. They all stared at the closed door waiting for it to open, but it never did.

"Maybe nobody's home?" Harry suggested.

"Nonsense! Brian just didn't knock loud enough."

"Well it was better than your idea." Albus retorted.

"My idea?"

"Yes. Your lets-just-barge-right-in-idea."

"Well then at least we would know by now if anybody was home."

"Ah-hem." Harry cleared his throat. "If you two are done arguing, then perhaps we could ring the doorbell?" Harry gestured to the small button. Wolf and Albus stared dumbly at it.

"So are we, uh, going to ring it?" Harry asked the two men.

"Well of course, my boy. I'm surprised Wolf here didn't notice it earlier. Seeing as he has the perceptiveness of a goat." Albus said stepping forward to push the button.

"I am not goat." Wolf said just as the door swung open. Harry smiled at the doorway, eagerly expecting to see Neville Longbottom, but no such luck. Utterly dwarfed by the gigantic door was a small house elf, which looked rather frightened.

"What can I be doing for yous, sirs?" She asked, twiddling her thumbs.

"We'd like to speak to your Master and Mistress if we may." Albus said politely. The little elf's eyes grew wide at the word Mistress.

"Yous may not be speaking to my Mistress, no yous may not." She said sternly. Albus and Wolf exchanged a bewildered glance.

"Could I talk to Neville then?" Harry asked the house elf.

"What is you wanting with my Neville?" She asked suspiciously.

"Just to talk to him. We're friends." Harry said.

"And who is yous being?" She asked, giving him another suspicious look.

"My name is Harry Potter. What's yours?" Harry smiled at the elf, who promptly gave him an angered glare.

"Aren't you knowing etiquette? What is your elf teaching yous?" She asked rather affronted. "Yous isn't supposed to be asking my name."

"Oh. Sorry." Harry said, looking just as bewildered as the men in back of him.

"Twilly!" A voice called from inside the house. "What are you doing?"

"Master Neville, sirs, you is having guests!" She said, and then scurried to whisper in his ear.

"Twilly is not trusting the old ones." She whispered, Neville looked rather alarmed until he caught sight of the people in the doorway.

"Harry? Professor? Wolf?" He said hurrying to the door. "What are you doing here?"

"Visiting." Harry replied.

"I have something to discuss with you and your grandmother, Mr. Longbottom. May we come in?"

"Uh… sure, Professor Dumbledore." Neville said, holding open the door to let them all in. "Twilly." Neville turned to the house elf. "Would you be so kind as to bring us some tea and muffins in the drawing room?" Neville asked.

"I is being delighted!" She said, and then with a loud crack she was gone. Neville turned to Harry.

"Sorry about her. She's been a little strange lately. She is usually pretty nice."

"It's ok Neville. I have yet to meet a sane house elf." Harry said, thinking of Dobby, Kreacher, and Winky. Neville turned awkwardly towards the other two wizards standing in his entrance hall.

"Um… the drawing room is right through that door. Uh, make yourselves at home?" Neville said pointing towards a nearby door, before turning back to Harry.

"Any idea what this about Harry?" Neville asked in a whisper.

"Not a clue." Harry whispered back, following Dumbledore and Wolf through the door.

"Maybe it's about our OWLS? Maybe we failed?" Neville asked, suddenly looking rather queasy. "Maybe he's come to kick us out of Hogwarts?"

"Na, Professor Dumbledore wouldn't kick us out. Besides, if Crabbe and Goyle can get into 5th year, then I'm sure we could pass our OWLS. You're loads smarter than they are." Harry said reassuringly. "But if it's not about OWLS or School… then why would he want to talk to both of us?" Harry wondered aloud.

"Don't ask me." Neville said with a shrug of his shoulders. The two took a deep breath and walked boldly into the room, unprepared for the conversation ahead.

* * *

The four occupants of the room all looked strangely out of place. For one, not any of them seemed comfortable in the delicate couches found in the study. Nor did they look particularly fond of the dainty teacups adorned with pale pink flowers. And finally, they were all as different from each other as day and night. In one corner, the wizened Albus Dumbledore sat resplendent in bight teal robes that twinkled with yellow stars and purple moons. His long beard neared the floor, and he gave off a slight air of power. Next to him sat Wolf, who was anything but refined. He was dressed in well worn Muggle clothes that had definitely not seen a washing machine in quite some time. He wore no beard, only a few days stubble that made him look even more unkempt. His hair was loose and ragged, matted with dirt, and smelling like firewhiskey and cigars. Across from Wolf, was Neville Longbottom. Neville's light brown hair was neat and orderly, but on the verge of being shaggy. He sat comfortable in a navy wizard's robe that had obviously been thrown on over some pajamas, as Harry could see Neville's familiar rubber duck pajamas peeking out beneath his robe. And next to Neville sat Harry Potter. Harry Potter was an icon of power and peace to most of the wizarding world. However, they would be surprised to find their hero sporting a _Raging Warlocks _t-shirt. Most heroes weren't known for liking hard rock. But Harry was dressed as a classic Warlock fan, complete with black converses and all. All together the four wizards didn't look like four who would sit down for a chat. The only common thread between the four was how they were all avoiding each others eyes, searching for something else to look at.

"Mr. Longbottom," Albus said as Neville turned to face him. "I had hoped that your grandmother might join us, perhaps?" Neville's face instantly darkened, as he thought of the woman who had locked herself in an old room in a deserted wing of the house.

"She's… uh… not well." Neville said, Wolf eyed him suspiciously.

"In all my days, I have never known Nora Longbottom to refuse a chance for good gossip, and a chat with an esteemed head of society. I refuse to believe that she is simply not well." Wolf said, looking Neville in the eye, who quivered only slightly under the steady blue-eyed gaze of Wolf.

"Neville has no reason to lie." Harry said his eyes cold and accusing.

"I didn't ask you." Wolf said pointedly.

"Mr. Longbottom, I hope you'll give your grandmother my regards. I had hoped she would be present for this conversation, but it is of no matter. Our topic of discussion concerns Mr. Potter and yourself." Dumbledore said, effectively putting a stop to the glaring contest between Harry and Wolf. Neville nodded weakly at the headmaster's words.

"Uh… what exactly are we discussing?" Harry asked suddenly, his eyes worried.

"A rather peculiar occurrence in two members of our upcoming sixth year class." Albus said, his eyes twinkling. Neville and Harry exchanged a worried look, and a rather audible gulp. Albus chuckled. "It is rather interesting news, that I think you will both find rather fascinating."

"Fascinating?" Neville asked, looking worried once again. Wolf rolled his eyes.

"Oh get to the point already, Brian. Quit stalling, or you'll worry the lads." He said rather annoyed.

"Patience is a virtue." Albus said.

"A virtue that I don't possess." Wolf grumbled.

"Well, Harry, Neville. This tale actually starts sometime in June about fifteen years ago…"

* * *

**Author's Note: Sorry, sorry, sorry that it's been so long. As I said earlier, I went out of town, but unfortunately I didn't get any writing done. Then I got back, and wrote this chapter, and was utterly unsatisfied, until I got this better idea at 2:34 in the morning. So I (of course) had to rewrite. I'd love a comment, and thanks soooo much for all the ones before I really appreciate them. And as for too much angst and not enough action… I guess I'm not great on the action bit. It's going to pretty slow going for most of Harry and Neville's summer. Well thanks for reading! **

**-Sarak **

**August 9, 2006 9:52 PM **

P.S. Kudos to anybody who can guess who Wolf is...


	7. Chapter 7Unititled

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything pertaining to Harry Potter, but I do own some immense pride in my football team. Go Scoopers! **

**Chapter 7 **

**Untitled**

Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom sported identical looks of amazement. Their mouths hung open and their eyes were unbelieving. Wolf however was grinning; he looked from the stunned boys to the solemn wizard next to him and back again. Looking back at Albus Dumbledore, Wolf's bright blue eyes started to twinkle and he burst out in laughter.

"This is some joke, Brian. Your best yet, I'd believe." The bartender slapped his knee in mirth. Albus however was not pleased and shot him a stern look.

"This isn't a joke, Abe." Albus said sternly.

"Yeah, for all we know we're going to blow up next week and all you can do is laugh." Harry said sarcastically, Albus sighed and turned to the green-eyed boy.

"Now, Harry, my boy, you aren't going to blow up." Albus said reassuringly. Harry rolled his eyes in sarcasm yet again, but next to him Neville wasn't even paying attention. Instead his eyes were focused in curiosity at the man he called Wolf.

"Got somethin' on your mind boy?" Wolf leered, leaning forward to stare Neville in the eye. Neville looked down shyly at his hands.

"Err… Yeah. Professor Dumbledore called you Abe. Is that your name? Your real name, I mean." Neville asked hurriedly. Harry looked up in interest. Wolf shot Albus a glare that Albus returned full force with smiling, twinkling eyes. Wolf sighed and turned to face the boys.

"Aye. That's my name." He said, his blue eyes looking dejected. Harry gave him a sympathetic look. There really was no competing with Dumbledore's signature twinkle. It had bested even the best of men. Harry glanced at Dumbledore's triumphant blue eyes than back at Wolf's dejected blue eyes. There was something oddly similar between the two wizards before him. True, Dumbledore looked ages older than Wolf, but that could be because of the beard and the glasses, Harry thought. But they had sort of the same nose, and the wizened look in their eyes was the same. Their eyes looked like they had seen the world. Harry looked closer at the eyes, they were almost the exact same shade of blue. Harry gasped. The eyes! They had the same eyes. Everyone turned to look at Harry who was staring at Wolf in disbelief with a calculated gaze.

"You're Aberforth Dumbledore aren't you?" Harry asked, never taking his eyes off the man. The reactions were immediate. Wolf scowled, Dumbledore beamed in something akin to pride and Neville glanced frantically from one brother to the other.

"Stop smiling Brian, or your face will get stuck that way." Wolf growled, but Albus chuckled in reply.

"I told you that they'd figure it out." Wolf scowled again and Albus smiled.

"So you are… are brothers?" Neville asked in disbelief.

"Yes." The headmaster said.

"Unfortunately." Aberforth muttered.

"I knew you looked familiar." Neville said. "Don't you want people to know that you're related to Professor Dumbledore?" Neville asked, and the old bartender sighed.

"I'd like to forget the past."

"They should at least know why, Abe." Albus said gently.

"I never said I wasn't going to tell them." Wolf snarled. "Like I told you before Neville- we grew up with our grandparents. All my life I was told how much of an honor it was to be a Dumbledore. From the time I could talk, I was burdened with the expectations of being a Dumbledore. I hated it. I had always believed that my father fought because he was a Dumbledore, and that he had died because he was a Dumbledore, and expected to give his life for the light."

"I wanted to escape my life. At Hogwarts I especially decided that I didn't want to be Aberforth Dumbledore, the son of a Great War hero anymore. Instead I wanted to be someone else, anyone else. A nameless nobody, that didn't have expectations, a person that could form his own reputation." Harry nodded along, he could relate. "After my grandparents died, I had a talk with an old man, and he gave me some good advice. He said 'Your past is what makes you who you are, but it doesn't define you.' I realized that he was right, I couldn't escape my past, but it didn't define me. Just because I had expectations it didn't mean that I couldn't forge my own path. A few years later, I played a roll in the war with Grindewald, a rather large roll actually. People looked to me as a leader after the war, but I wanted nothing more than to disappear. It was time to start my own path. So I disappeared. I left without turning back. Albus spread some rumors, and after a time, people forgot. That's when I truly became Wolf."

"So you just ran away from your name?" Harry asked coldly, yet curiously at the same time. "From your family?" Wolf sighed.

"I'm an expert at running away. It's not something I regret though. I didn't want to be pressured into being the fearless leader or hero again. And I didn't know how to forge my own path with that destiny hanging over me." Harry nodded; it was another one of those things that he could just relate to. A small silence fell upon the group.

"So why don't you call Professor Dumbledore by his name?" Neville asked and Wolf chuckled, lightening the mood.

"Oh, but I do call him by his name."

"I thought his name was Albus?" Harry asked, confused. Albus chuckled.

"Oh but it is." Abe said, his eyes starting to twinkle.

"My full name is Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore." The headmaster supplied.

"He was named after our grandfather. It was too confusing to have two Albuses in the house. Percy didn't seem to fit him, and heaven forbid, that Grandmother call him something akin to a werewolf, so everyone called him Brian." Aberforth said, smiling at the memories.

"Oh…" Neville said in understanding. "How'd you come up with your name?"

"With Wolf?" Abe asked and Neville nodded. "It's from my middle name. My full name is Aberforth Amadeus Wolfgang Erik Dumbledore. An old friend of mine came up with it… a very old friend."

"How old?" Harry asked curiously.

"Now Harry, it's not exactly polite to ask someone's age." A voice came from the door. "Where _are _your manners?" Everyone turned to look at the man in the doorway. Harry grinned, Wolf chuckled, Albus groaned, and Neville just looked bewildered.

"Nick!"

"Flame!"

"Nicolas." Harry, Wolf, and Albus cried out simultaneously, although Neville still looked confused. Harry caught Neville's bewildered look and took pity on him.

"Hey, Nev. That's Nicolas Flamel." Harry whispered and Neville nodded. A second later, Neville leaned over to whisper to Harry.

"Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"Who's Nicolas Flamel?"

"D'you remember the Sorcerer's Stone?"

"Yeah."

"Well, he's the guy that made it." Harry explained and Neville nodded again.

"Oh…" Neville said in understanding. Another second passed and Neville leaned over to whisper to Harry again.

"Hey Harry?"

"Yeah Neville?"

"Didn't Nicolas Flamel die?" Harry looked at Nicolas, and frowned.

"Does he look dead, Neville?"

"Well no… but didn't he need the Stone to keep living?" Neville asked as Harry pondered the question.

"Well obviously not." Harry replied, still whispering.

"Harry?"

"Yes Neville?"

"Isn't he really old, like 600 and some?"

"Yeah… I think so."

"Then how come he looks younger than Professor Dumbledore?" Harry was about to answer, but two choking sounds caught his attention. Harry and Neville looked over to see Professor Dumbledore and Nicolas Flamel choking on what looked suspiciously like lemon drops. Aberforth was laughing again, his eyes twinkling in mirth.

"I al-" Wolf started, but was cut off by Flame, who held up a hand to stop him.

"Don't say it Wolf."

"The truth hurts." Abe said grinning.

"Obviously." Nick said and turned to Neville. "I don't believe we've met. I am, of course, Nicolas Flamel as Harry so aptly mentioned."

"I'm ..err… Neville Longbottom."

"Longbottom you say? Why I once knew a Longbottom, it was such a long time ago. But I've never met a man so courageous and loyal at the same time. He was a true friend. I can see him in you."

"What?" Neville asked, taken aback. "I'm not all that brave, you must be thinking of some other family." Nick laughed gently.

"No, I'm sure I'm not. You have the eyes son, the same eyes. Nolan Longbottom had eyes that others only dreamed about. Heck, I even dreamed about them at one time. My wife says that eyes are windows to the soul. If they truly are, then Nolan had the purest soul that I've ever seen. Yet, here I am looking into eyes that once again remind me of hope, courage, and innocence. Never lose that Neville, be proud of yourself, and your heritage. I've never once seen a Longbottom back down from something they've believed in." Nick said, smiling at Neville.

"Uh… yes sir." Neville said a little dazed, but Harry smiled. It was a little odd how Nicolas Flamel always knew the right thing to say. But Harry supposed, that after six hundred and some years of talking to people that you generally figured out what to say.

"So Nicolas…" Albus said. "Why-"

"Am I here?" Nick finished for him. "It was a simple matter of deduction. Plus, young Minerva was most helpful." Harry and Neville exchanged a glance… Since when was Professor McGonagall young? "But as fascinating as my sleuthing is," Nick continued. "I am rather interested in why I appear so much younger than yourself, Albus." The three older occupants of the room turned to face Harry and Neville.

"It's the beard." Harry said quickly.

"Yeah. The beard." Neville was swift to agree. "Why the beard, Harry?" Neville whispered. Harry shrugged.

"I dunno." Harry whispered back, and then turned back to the adults. "I guess having more white hair like that makes you look older, sir." Harry said to Albus. Nick grinned triumphantly. "But don't worry, it makes you look much more distinguished." Nick drooped a little and threw a fake glare at Harry, but Albus twinkled.

"So why are you really here, Flame?" Aberforth asked.

"Curiosity, really. Minerva mentioned something about the Swarshoff Block. So naturally I got the rest of the story out of her and I deduced that this was where young Mr. Potter would be." Nick explained.

"You were looking for me?" Harry asked.

"Well I said I'd see you around. Nice t-shirt by the way. I just can't get enough of the Raging Warlocks." Harry gaped at him.

"My Gran likes them too." Neville added.

"What is it with old people and this band?" Harry muttered darkly. Albus chuckled.

"It merely implies that you have good taste, my boy. Now, I believe we wandered from our original conversation. Did you or Mr. Longbottom have any more questions on the matter?" Harry and Neville exchanged a look.

"Err… Not really." Harry said and Albus nodded.

"Not really?" Nick asked. "Someone died because of this potion and you don't have any questions?" Nick asked outraged. Neville went pale and his eyes went wide.

"Somebody died?" Neville squeaked.

"Yes… he went and got himself blown up."

"Blown up?" Harry asked. "But I wasn't serious about that!"

"Did you even tell them about Jilipoly Guffrey?" Nick asked Albus, who twiddled his thumbs looking up at the ceiling.

"Albus!" Nick chided his former partner.

"I didn't see the point of worrying them." Albus said as Nick shook his head.

"Well for future reference, if there's even the slightest chance of getting blown up, I'd like to know!" Harry said.

"You aren't going to die." Wolf said.

"Tell that to Trelawnry." Harry muttered.

"But someone had died before?" Neville asked, ignoring Harry's outburst. Albus nodded.

"Unfortunately yes." Nick said grimly. Neville's head collapsed in his hands.

"Oh we're doomed." He mumbled. Harry looked at the floor silently agreeing.

"You are not doomed." Wolf said, glaring at the two.

"Yeah, easy for you to say." Harry retorted. "You aren't the one who's about to become a statistic." Harry said sarcastically.

"Look, Harry, Neville. The only reason Jilipoly Guffrey died was because he was a bloody idiot. He didn't bother to get used to his power before he tried a more complicated spell. He lost control and then his magic just took over." Nick explained. Neville and Harry nodded, but both sported a look that plainly said they didn't feel better about the whole thing.

"So what will happen when the block comes off?" Harry asked.

"I thought you didn't have any questions." Nick teased and Harry rolled his eyes.

"Well thing change after you find out that somebody died."

"Harry, you aren't going to die." Albus said reassuringly. "Now, we can't be completely sure of how much you both will change, as the only documented case of this, unfortunately did not last long enough to be documented. But you can both expect a dramatic increase in your available magical power. Your appearances might change physically as well. The block represses any magical growing, so you missed out on all your magical growth spurts. However, I believe they will happen in a short amount of time, leaving you both much taller. It is also possible that any magical gifts you posses were hidden under the block. They will start to appear after the block is removed.

"What do you mean about Magical Power? Can you run out, or is it always there?" Harry asked.

"Magical Power is how much magical energy your body possesses. The more you have, the easier it is to release from your body. I would guess that you both have some difficulty now in mastering spells?" Dumbledore asked and both boys nodded. "That's because you don't have as much available magical energy to use as most wizards your age. Therefore, it takes more concentration and effort to release your magic."

"Err…Professor?" Neville asked quietly.

"Yes, Mr. Longbottom?"

"You, uh, mentioned something about magical gifts?"

"Right. I assume you'll want to know more?" Albus asked, and Neville nodded.

"Magical gifts are things like empathy, metamorphagi, Parseltongue, natural healing… Almost anything you can think of."

"Like telekinesis?"

"Yes, exactly, although that is really quite rare." The headmaster explained. Neville gulped. "There are too many gifts to give you a complete list. It is my belief that you both possess some sort or type og magical gift. They will undoubtedly show themselves after the block is broken. But like you magic, they must be trained in order to meet their full potential." Albus explained. Nick and Wolf yawned in the background.

"C…Could they have already started showing themselves?" Neville asked. Dumbledore paused for a second before answering.

"It is a possibility. The block is rapidly deteriorating If a certain gift is particularly prominent then it might bypass the block altogether as it wears down." Neville nodded in acceptance. "Why? Is there something you'd like to discuss with me, Neville?"

"Nn…No sir." Neville said. Albus, Nick and Wolf shared a look, but a small silence fell on the group.

"Do you have any more questions, Mr. Longbottom?" Professor Dumbledore asked, but Neville shook his head. "What about you Harry?" Harry paused for a second.

"Err… Where I am going to stay for the summer?" Albus looked thoughtful.

"Well, Harry, I suppose that is up to you. You have several options, of course. Each has some desirable and undesirable traits. Hogwarts and Headquarters are open to you and I'm sure you'd have a place at the Burrow."

"Those are my options?" Harry asked, slightly frowning.

"Well… There is one other option."

"What is it?"

"Your Grandmother owned a townhouse just off Diagon Alley. Your parents lived there up until you were born. It's been under the Fidelius Charm for quite some time, so it is quite safe. However, I don't believe you should live there alone." Harry's eyes lit up at the mention of the place. Albus silently groaned. IT would be hard to talk him out of this.

"Hey Neville…" Harry asked slyly.

"Yeah?"

"I don't suppose you'd like to come live in Diagon Alley with me, would you?" Harry grinned and Neville grinned back. Albus tried to refrain from groaning, but Wolf and Nick were already laughing.

"He's got you beat, Brian."

"Yes, beat by a fifteen-year-old at your own game. Pity, I saw such potential in you." Nick chided Albus, while giving Harry and Neville a sly wink.

"While I can't stop Mr. Potter from his chosen decision," Albus said as Harry grinned widely. "I do need to speak to your grandmother about the living arrangements." Neville's eyes grew wide, but with a nudge they went down again.

"Gran won't mind Professor. She was just saying something about how I should get out of the house more." Neville said quickly.

"Be that as it may, I still need to speak with her about the arrangements, for you are still underage and under her care." Albus said and Neville's face fell.

"She's….uh…"

"Out of town." Harry whispered.

"Out of town." Neville said almost too loudly. "She's on…"

"Vacation." Harry hissed again.

"Vacation…err…Yeah, vacation, in the Philippines. Yeah the Philippines. She won't be back for weeks, and she left me in charge while she was gone. I could try sending her an owl, but I'm not sure if it would reach her." Neville said, with Harry nodding along. Albus sighed.

"Well as long as you owl your other relatives about your whereabouts and tell them to contact me if they have any questions, then I suppose it will be acceptable. However, I will still need to speak toy your grandmother at her earliest convenience. You will, of course, have her owl me upon her return, will you not?" Albus said wearily, with Neville nodding along excitedly.

"Yeah, make sure you do, Neville. Because Merlin help us if Nora Longbottom gets worked into a panic." Wolf said, rolling his eyes. Neville however went slightly pale, his eyes a little bit wider than normal, a fact that only Nicolas Flamel picked up on.

"So… When do we leave?" Harry asked, smiling brightly, Neville grinned as well.

"May I remind you that every house under the Fidelius Charm has a secret keeper, Mr. Potter?" Nicolas said cheerily.

"So?" Harry asked blankly.

"What Flame is trying to say is that unless one of us is the secret keeper, then our plans will have to wait." Wolf said irritably.

"Oh." Harry said, then turned to the headmaster. "Are you the secret keeper?" Albus chuckled.

"Oh no, my boy. I fear I am not." Albus said.

"Then who is?" Neville asked, curiously. Albus smiled at Nicolas and Wolf.

"Tell me, Abe, Nicolas, do you remember Jocelyn Cahill?" Albus asked, Wolf scoffed and Nick laughed aloud.

"Remember? How could anyone forget?" Aberforth mumbled.

"Certainly Albus, I must agree with Aberforth, it would be near upon impossible to forget Jocelyn Cahill." Nick said a glazed look in his eye.

"Quite a handful that girl was." Wolf said.

"Who is Jocelyn Cahill?" Harry asked curiously.

"Then you must remember her group of friends as well?" Albus questioned, ignoring Harry altogether.

"Oh yes. There were three of them, was there not?" Nicolas asked Wolf, who nodded.

"Yes… Evelyn Prewitt, Adelaide Morrigan, and one more…Minerva! Minerva Stanton" Aberforth said.

"Who is Jocelyn Cahill?" Harry asked again, this time a little louder.

"And surely you must remember-" Albus started again, once again ignoring Harry.

"Who the bloody hell is Jocelyn Cahill?" Harry practically yelled, making all three adults and Neville turn to stare at him.

"A little anxious are we?" Wolf said, giving Harry a teasing look. Harry just scowled back.

"Jocelyn Cahill was your grandmother, Harry." Nicolas said.

"Oh." Harry said, feeling quite like an idiot.

"It's quite alright, my boy. You've probably never had the opportunity to learn very much about your grandparents." Albus said kindly. "You must ask Hagrid about it sometime, he probably has some rather interesting stories about them." Albus suggested and Harry nodded.

"What were you going to ask us, Albus?" Nicolas asked.

"I believe that young Misters Potter and Longbottom would benefit much more from a story, than my asking you questions." Albus said, as Harry nodded. Neville shrugged but nodded anyways. "Well, Harry, I had just recently started teaching when I had the opportunity to meet four young girls. The four became nearly inseparable during their school years and even closer during the years to come. Adelaide Morrigan became Adelaide Prewitt after Hogwarts. She was the first woman to ever become an Unspeakable, a fact that ultimately caused her death in the first war with Voldemort. Evelyn Prewitt is better known as Evelyn Jones. You may recognize her as the founder of the Holyhead Harpies, a team that her daughters still run and play on today; however, she too died in the first war. And there was your grandmother. Jocelyn Cahill married Andy Potter. She was both one of the kindest and most stubborn people you'd ever meet. Your grandparents were big targets during the war with Voldemort, and were killed by Voldemort himself in a raid." Dumbledore explained, rather somber.

"So you're saying that one of my grandmother's friends is the secret keeper?" Harry asked, and Dumbledore nodded.

"That can't be right. You just said that they all died." Neville pointed out.

"Not everyone." Nicolas smiled.

"Who?" Both boys asked.

"Minerva Stanton." Wolf said, giving a wry smile. "Tricky Albus, I never would have thought of her."

"Not many would." Albus said, his eyes twinkling.

"Who is Minerva Stanton?" Harry asked.

"I believe you know her…quite well in fact. I believe both of you know her quite well." Nicolas said, smiling, his eyes also starting to twinkle.

"I don't know anybody that's named that." Harry said. "Do you Neville?"

"No." Neville said shaking his head.

"That's because you know her by another name." Aberforth said, his eyes twinkling brightly.

"What name?" Harry asked, trying not to notice the three pairs of twinkling eyes on the other side of the room.

"Minerva McGonagall."

**Author's Note: I 3 Reviews! Kudos to everybody that reviewed! That was a bit obvious though, wasn't it? Hopefully this chapter cleared up any lingering questions, or brought up some new ones? Sorry about the wait, but it's probably always going to be like this. I am very sporadic when I write, as most of my inspiration occurs at inopportune moments. (Like three in the morning) So don't expect the next chapter for at least 2 weeks or more. But rest assured that I have an outline, so it will happen. One more thing… it recently came to my attention that Neville's grandmother's name is Augusta, so I could go back and fix that or I could just leave it… I think I will leave it for now though. **

**-Sarak**

** _I really couldn't think of a title for this chapter… So if you have any suggestions… Well, they'd be appreciated. _**

** _WE WON! Yeah, it's been two days, and it still hasn't sunk in. In case you haven't heard about the Scoopers (I'm guessing that pretty much everybody hasn't), I'll give you some background. Almost nine years ago, the Sturgis Scoopers faced off against the Stevens Raiders in a state playoff game. Sadly the Scoopers lost, and what followed was the second longest losing streak in the nation. The Scoopers lost 79 games in a row from 1997- 2006. (The record is 81 games) But that all ended on September 1, 2006! We fricken beat the Stevens Raiders 22-20! I still can't talk after screaming that much! _**


	8. Cockroach Clusters and Tabby Cats

**Disclaimer: Anybody can see that I'm just a loser with a computer, not somebody talented like J.K. Rowling. **

**Chapter 8**

**Cockroach Clusters and Tabby Cats**

"I still don't see why we are the ones doing this." Harry grumbled as he and Neville began the long trek up to the castle from Hogsmeade.

"Well, you were the one who wanted to live in the house." Neville said.

"True. But they could have at least come along for moral support." Harry said, referring to the three adults that had ditched them in Hogsmeade. The three had walked them to the edge of the grounds before running back to Honeydukes.

Nick claimed that he was still searching for his chocolate frog card and never missed an opportunity to purchase a frog in hopes of finding his own card. Apparently, no one had ever had the heart to tell Nicolas that he wasn't featured on any card except for the one liner on Albus Dumbledore's card. Either that, or Nick thought it was a good excuse for eating chocolate frogs without getting told off by anyone.

Albus had claimed that he was going to "look" only. According to the headmaster, he had finally run out of sweets for the password to his office. So he had to go research some more. Harry secretly thought that the "research" would include vigorous amounts of taste testing. Wolf claimed immunity to the candy's devious effects, but Neville thought he was lying. Wolf said that he was merely along for the ride because Honeydukes didn't allow children alone and unattended. However, Wolf could be seen racing alongside the two muttering something about a 'lifetime supply of Cockroach Clusters.'

So Harry and Neville were left to fend for themselves against their stern Transfiguration professor. Since Professor McGonagall was the secret-keeper, Harry and Neville needed her approval and knowledge of the location before they could continue with their plans to live free and happy for the summer. The two were of the opinion that their plan was doomed.

* * *

A few minutes later, the two had reached the castle. The boys stood side-by-side in the entrance hall, twiddling their thumbs. 

"So… Neville… Where do you suppose McGonagall is?"

"No clue… her office maybe?"

"Maybe… We could check anyways."

"Maybe she'd be in her classroom?"

"Na, what kind of teacher would want to spend the summer in there as well?"

"Good point, Harry. Well, should we check her office and hope for the best?"

"Sounds good to me." Harry said and the two set off in the direction of the Gryffindor Tower and McGonagall's office, never noticing the tabby cat that slinked behind them in the shadows.

* * *

"Harry, maybe we should give up?" Neville breathed, exhausted. It had been four hours since they had first set out for their Transfiguration Professor's office, and they had not found her yet. They had checked her classroom, the library, the kitchens, the owlry, the Great Hall, and they had even gotten the Fat Lady to scout out the Gryffindor Common Room for them, and they still hadn't found her. But the Fat Lady had offered her help, and now all the paintings in Hogwarts had joined the quest. However, Harry and Neville thought they could do without the painting of Sir Cadogan following them around. 

"No! You cannot give up your quest this easily!" The painting shouted. "It's not over until you have solved it!"

Harry scowled but nodded.

"Yeah, Neville, I hate to say it, but he's right. We can't just give up, think of what Wolf would say if we returned empty-handed."

"I suppose…" Neville said, looking around as if McGonagall was just going to appear out of thin air. He suddenly spotted a fluffy orange tail hidden in the shadows.

"Hey Harry, do you see that?" He asked pointing to the tail.

"Yeah… what is that? That isn't Mrs. Norris is it?"

"No, it's too orange to be her. Plus Mrs. Norris has that annoying bell. But I don't know of any other cats in the castle." Neville said thoughtfully. Harry's eyes suddenly widened as he thought back to their first Transfiguration lesson.

"I think we are about to feel very stupid, Neville."

"Why?" Neville asked, genuinely curious.

"I don't suppose you remember our first Transfiguration lesson, do you?"

"Um… well sort-of. Weren't you and Ron late?"

"Yeah… but I'm thinking of something else."

"And wasn't McGonagall waiting for you on her desk, in her animagus form?"

"Yes, but Neville think back to what McGonagall's animagus is…" Harry said, and Neville's eyes widened.

"Very good, Mr. Potter, for a moment there I was afraid that Alastor had taught you nothing." McGonagall said, as she came out of the shadows. Both Neville and Harry were redder than Ron's hair.

"Now, what brings you to the castle so soon? As I recall, school has not yet been out for a week." The stern lady asked.

"Well, actually, Professor…." Harry started.

"uh… We, uh…." Neville stuttered.

"Need a favor." Harry finished strongly, finding his Gryffindor courage. McGonagall raised an eyebrow.

"A favor? What might that favor be, Mr. Potter, Mr. Longbottom?"

"Well, you see, Professor, Harry doesn't want to spend the summer at his relatives this summer." Neville said. And Harry nodded along eagerly.

"Is this true, Mr. Potter?"

"Yes, Professor, Professor Dumbledore said that I might be able to choose where I am to stay this summer."

"Oh good! Albus has finally come to his senses, but please continue."

"And well, you see, he was, uh, telling us about… my grandmother."

"Ah…" Professor McGonagall smiled at the boys. Harry and Neville exchanged a wide-eyed look. It wasn't very often that they found McGonagall genuinely smiling at them.

"Told you about the townhouse did he?" She asked, her eyes sparkling.

"Well yes, and Neville and I, well, we thought that we would like to spend the summer there." Harry explained, hope in his eyes.

"Well I think it's a marvelous idea." McGonagall said.

"You do?" Neville asked, blinking his eyes. The stern professor narrowed her eyes, and Harry elbowed him in the side. "I mean… you do!"

"Yes, Mr. Longbottom, contrary to popular belief, I am not all that cold-hearted. I believe you and Mr. Potter would benefit from a summer together. Although I do have some conditions." Harry and Neville both gulped.

"Yes?" The two asked. McGonagall eyes the two, almost as if sizing them up.

"I want you two to spend this next month studying and then retake your Owls on the first of July."

"Retake our Owls?" Harry asked skeptically.

"Can you do that?" Neville asked.

"Yes, they offer them in once in July for adults who wish to try and receive another Owl, or for children that have chosen not to come to Hogwarts. I will petition for you both to take them again on account of some peculiar circumstances surrounding your first testing."

"Uh… ok. We'll do that." Harry said, and Neville nodded in agreement.

"Good, I expect to see both of you in my Newt Transfiguration course next year."

"Professor, I don't think-"

"Mr. Longbottom, save your excuses, you will be ready and prepared for this exam and you _will _be in my class, no questions asked."

"Yes ma'am." Neville gulped.

"Secondly, Mr. Potter, I expect to see you practicing Quidditch to your full potential. We can't have our Gryffindor Captain out of shape, now can we?" McGonagall smiled at him, and Harry just stared wide-eyed at her.

"I will be, of course, sending your broom to you." She said. "I expect to see you both well-fed and tanned upon your return to school. No scrimping on meals, or I will have a certain house-elf force feed you, Mr. Potter." The two teenagers just nodded dumbly.

"Finally, I will be coming twice a week for dinner, once on Sunday and once on Wednesday. I expect you both to be there, so I can check up on you, and to inform Mr. Potter of his family history. Also, I will be along to take both of you shopping, perhaps tomorrow. Do you find these terms acceptable?"

"Yes Professor." Harry said, as Neville nodded slowly.

"Very well, the House of the Ravens can be found at 234 Cleval Alley." McGonagall said, smiling at the two boys. When suddenly a loud noise behind the pair alerted them to the presence of some certain candy addicts.

* * *

"Ah, Minny, how wonderful to see you!" Wolf said, coming up the hall, several Honeydukes bags floating behind him. 

"Aberforth, how many times have I told you not to call me Minny?" She said glaring at the man, as Albus Dumbledore and Nick Flamel chuckled, carrying even more bags than Aberforth.

"I will stop calling you Minny when you start calling me by my preferred name." He said cheekily.

"A nickname does not constitute as a proper name." She said.

"Ah, my dear Minerva, it has been far too long." Nicolas Flamel said, as Minerva's eyes popped out of her head.

"Nicolas! But I thought…"

"That I was dead?" He said calmly with a slight glance at Albus. "That seems to be the general idea around here. Just what have you been telling people Albus?" Nick asked.

"Nothing more than the truth, old friend."

"And Albus! Just what do you think you are doing with all that candy!" Minerva turned to face the headmaster.

"Well I intend to eat it." He said. "What else do you with sweets?" Minerva just shook her head as Wolf shook in suppressed mirth. "However, this bag here," Albus selected a bulging bag, "Is for Mr. Potter, and I believe this one is for Mr. Longbottom."

"Thank-You, sir." Harry said peeking in his bag, only to see it overflowing with every type of candy imaginable, although he had to smile when he spotted the never-ending bag of lemon drops. Neville just stared at the bag in amazement; it wasn't often that the headmaster of Hogwarts, who was widely regarded as the greatest wizard in the world, gave you a bag overflowing with sweets.

"Now, I believe we should be getting Mr. Potter and Mr. Longbottom settled into their summer residence. Would you care to join us, Minerva?" Albus asked politely.

"Why, yes, I believe I would." She said.

"Alright, then let us be off." Albus said, holding out a cockroach cluster. Wolf, Nick, Minerva, Harry and Neville all touched a finger to the treat, and with the familiar pull at their navel, they were gone.

* * *

"Albus, dear brother, what a waste of a good Cockroach Cluster!" Harry looked up to see Albus and Wolf arguing over the choice of portkey. Looking around, he surveyed his surroundings. He was in a hall of some type. The floors were a beautiful polished walnut with inlaid ebony and holly stars with swirls of a lighter mahogany. A curved stair led to a second and then a third floor. The stairwell was polished from years of wizards and witches alike spent sliding down it. A thick dark navy blue rug had cushioned his fall, silver stars danced around on it forming constellations. Tall dark blue curtains patterned with sliver threads that seemed to move graced the windows that gave a view of a flower garden in full bloom. Across from the windows was a huge fireplace with an urn filled with green powder for Flooing. Looking up, Harry saw that the ceiling was actually a huge mural painted to look like the night sky. Silver chandeliers made of stars wrought together combined with the natural light from the windows lit the room. 

"So what do you think, Harry?" McGonagall asked.

"It's amazing." He said, getting to his feet and offering a hand to Neville, who was still sprawled on the floor. Evidently, it took years of practice to avoid falling down after portkeying, something that all the adults seemed to have mastered, but Harry and Neville had not.

"I've always loved this house." McGonagall said wistfully. "I have some very fond memories of this place." She said. "Jeeves!" She called and then with a loud pop a house elf dressed in dark blue garments appeared.

"Is it really being Master Potter returned?" He cried, launching himself on Harry's leg.

"And Mistress Minny, too!" the excited house elf said. Neville saw Wolf smirking at the name as McGonagall pursed her lips.

"Harry, this is Jeeves, the head house elf of The House of Ravens." McGonagall explained, as Jeeves gave a quick bow. "Jeeves, Harry and his friend, Neville Longbottom will be staying here for the summer. It would be delightful if you could put their trunks in their respective rooms." McGonagall asked the small elf.

"I is being delighted!" The small elf said, and with a snap of his fingers, he took off with the trunks that Albus had just finished enlarging.

"My, My, Minerva it seems to have gotten rather late. I must be getting back to Prenelle or she'll have my head." Nicolas said. "I bid you all farewell. It was nice to meet you Mr. Longbottom. And I'll be around Harry." The old wizard tipped his hat to the group and then without a sound disappeared. Harry and Neville just stood staring at the spot that Nick had just vacated.

"Oh I hate it when he does that." Professor Dumbledore said, and Minerva and Wolf nodded along eagerly.

"Minerva, we have a meeting that starts in…" The headmaster took out his peculiar pocket watch and frowned at it. "This can't be right…Well, Minerva, we must be going. Our meeting seems to have started twenty minutes ago." Minerva's eyes widened for a moment, before she nodded.

"Very well Albus. Harry, Neville, I'll be along tomorrow to take you shopping. Do try and stay out of trouble for once." She said and then once again touched the cockroach cluster that the wizened headmaster had just charmed. Harry blinked and the two were gone, leaving them alone with Wolf.

"So… some place you boys got here." Wolf said, breaking the silence, and letting out a long whistle.

"Yep, sure is." Neville replied, and the three fell into an uneasy silence. All three were determinedly looking anywhere but at the other occupants of the room.

"You know you can go if you want." Harry said, motioning to the door. "We don't need a chaperone."

"You don't do you?" Wolf said, and Neville shook his head. Wolf looked at the floor and then at the two boys. "Well if you are sure that you will be all right alone…" He said, giving them a questioning gaze.

"We're sure." Neville said, giving Wolf a half-hearted smile.

"Well I guess I'll just be going then." The old bartender said and disappeared with a slight pop. Harry and Neville both let out huge sighs as soon as he was gone.

"Well that was kind of strange." Harry said.

"Yeah, a little." Neville agreed.

"I never thought that Wolf would be one to make sure we would be all right." Harry commented.

"I think he'd surprise you if you got to know him." Neville replied. "Or maybe he was just trying to be the responsible adult?"

"Yeah I suppose." Harry let the words drift off and the two just stood there in an awkward silence, unsure of what to say. Harry gave Neville a curious glance. It wasn't really that hard to connect the boy in front of him with the boy that had written the letter, well at least it wasn't once you actually looked. When Harry first read the letter, he had thought that Neville couldn't have possibly written it. Neville had never been the most cheerful guy in the world, but Harry was sure that he was one that never gave up. Well at least, Neville never let the people around him give up. Looking at Neville, Harry finally saw what most others missed when they looked at the boy. If you looked past the falsely cheerful face, then there was something there. Something more real than most people possessed. And definitely something more tragic than most teenagers had ever seen. For once, Harry really saw when he looked at Neville. He didn't see the forgetful but loveable boy that most saw when they looked at the clumsy form of Neville Longbottom. What Harry saw was a hero, a hero that didn't even know he was one. Neville had to be a hero, Harry thought. Not everyone could fight the internal battle that so evidently plagued Neville and come out still being able to smile, laugh, and have hope.

"Neville, I don't think you've lost hope. Not yet anyways." Harry said softly, reaching out a hand towards his friend.

"What do you mean Harry?" Neville asked, giving Harry a long questioning glance.

"You know… That letter, the one you sent me yesterday."

"But… But… I didn't send you…. Oh bloody hell! I am going to kill that bird." Neville muttered, just now realizing what had happened. Harry just stared in silent shock at the friendly round faced boy. He had never heard Neville swear like that. Well, he had never even heard Neville swear to begin with.

"Harry, I, uh, didn't mean toy send you that letter. My Gran's owl, well, she has a mind of her own. When she sees someone writing anything remotely close to a letter, she thinks that it has to be sent. She must have thought that I was sending you that letter. I really didn't mean half of the things I said in it." Neville said very quickly with a frightened look in his eye.

"Neville, it's ok. I think it was actually good for me."

"Good for you? But how?" Neville leaned closer to his friend, while letting out a sigh of relief.

"Well first it made me really depressed." Neville's eyes widened at this, but Harry continued anyways. "But then I met Nick. He sort of… well I don't know how to explain it. But he just made me realize some things that I think I already knew."

"Like what?"

"Like how sometimes you have to be defeated and that bad things happen. But then you just have to move past that. Nick helped me realize something about life." Harry said, almost wisely. Neville thought he was beginning to sound a bit like their aging headmaster. Maybe if you were around people like Nick and Professor Dumbledore enough then their wisdom started to rub off on the people around them?

"What?" Neville asked, curious to know Harry's newfound wisdom.

"That it's not really living if you don't take risks, and if you love, and if you don't have a purpose." Harry said quickly.

"So you're saying that my parents aren't living?" Neville asked in a small quiet voice.

"Neville," Harry paused to bite his lip. "You are the only one who can decide that. Not a healer, not a nurse, not Wolf, not me, not Dumbledore, and certainly not your grandmother."

"What do you mean?" Neville asked, his eyes brimming with tears.

"Neville, your parents loved you, and they loved life… And they used that love to defend against evil and make the world better. You said it yourself- they are heroes. But you Neville are their legacy. Their hopes, their dreams, their love have all resulted in you. So you are the only one that can determine if what they stood for still exists. They can live on through you Neville. Because you can be everything they stood for and you can have their same hopes and dreams. And, you, Neville, you… you can live." Harry said as he looked straight into Neville's eyes. Neville's eyes roamed the room looking for something. Some excuse, some reason why Harry must be wrong. But every fiber of his being was telling him that Harry was right. Finally, after a long silence, Neville began to smile. But it wasn't a happy smile, it was wistful, neither sad nor happy. But the eyes gave it away. They positively glowed. Not in anger, depression or happiness. But with determination, stubbornness, and most importantly hope. Neville looked Harry deep in the eyes and softly he spoke.

"You're right Harry. I can live."

* * *

Not so far away, deep in the Janus Thickley Ward of St. Mungo's, Alice Longbottom opened her eyes and she smiled. It wasn't a goofy or loony smile like usual, but a soft gentle smile. Like the ones parents wear on their faces as they watch their sleeping child, because they know that the person in front of them is so pure and so beautiful and that person is full of their hope. If anyone had been looking into Alice's eyes at that moment, they would have caught a glimpse of the person underneath, a person filled with proud hope. In the back of his mind, Neville heard a soft comforting whisper. 

_That's right Neville. I have already put my faith and hope in you._

* * *

The two boys had sat in a companionable silence of an hour or more when Neville gave Harry a thoughtful glance. 

"What next?"

Harry shook himself out of thoughts that hadn't really been leading him anywhere.

"We live Neville." Harry said, calmly but surely.

"Yes, but how? What do we do?"

"I don't know. This has been a lot to process in the last couple of days." Harry said, looking down at his feet, as if the answers would present themselves on the navy rug at their feet.

"Yeah, I know what you mean." Neville said softly looking out the window. "What about what McGonagall was talking about? Studying and retaking our OWLs? D'you think we should?" Neville gave Harry a glance.

"Yeah. I mean- Why shouldn't we? Professor Dumbledore said this would change our magic. So our old OWL scores won't even be an accurate representation of our abilities."

"Good point Harry.It's just too bad that we don't have Hermione here to write up a study schedule for us."

"But since when have we ever used them on the occasions that she had written them for us?" Harry asked and the two boys both burst out in laughter. All of a sudden, the boys were interrupted by a sharp tap on the window. Harry let in the bedraggled bird who was, surprisingly, carrying a bright red envelope that both Harry and Neville eyed uneasily.

"You open it." Harry said, nudging Neville towards the envelope.

"No, you open it" Neville said, staring wide eyed at the envelope. "It'll be worse if you wait." The boy pointed out.

"Come on, Neville… You're brave right?" Harry asked suggestively. At this Neville just raised an eyebrow.

"And you aren't? Come on where's the Harry that chases after Hungarian Horntails?"

"Out for a swim."

"Are you a Gryffindor or not?" Neville asked, and Harry considered his answer for a moment.

"Oh alright. Fine. I'll open it. But just for the record.- the hat wanted to put me in Slytherin." Harry said, reaching for the letter as Neville just stared at who, until now, he had thought to be the epitome of Gryffindor.

"Here goes…" Harry said broke the seal, bracing himself for impact.

**HARRY JAMES POTTER! OF ALL THE RECKLESS THINGS YOUR FATHER DID, I CERTAINLY DID NOT EXPECT YOU TO PICK THE ONE THING HE DIDN'T DO!!! HOW CAN YOU EVEN THINK ABOUT LIVING BY YOURSELF?!? YOU'RE UNDERAGE! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW DANGEROUS YOUR LITTLE 'IDEA' IS? MARK MY WORDS- YOU HAVE NOT HEARD THE LAST OF ME ON THIS MATTER!!!**

Harry and Neville shared a look of amazement. Whatever they had been expecting- well that certainly wasn't it.

"Who was that Harry?" Neville asked, still wide-eyed.

"Well certainly not Mrs. Weasley." Harry said observing the lack of shrillness in the voice.

"Maybe one of the teachers?" Neville asked and Harry looked thoughtful, and then brightened.

"Yeah, come to think of it, that was one of our teachers. Just not the ones you're thinking of…" Harry said mysteriously.

* * *

"Remus John Lupin! Was that really necessary?" Nymphadora's usually sparkling blue eyes were a stormy gray that blazed in anger. 

"Yes." Remus said defiantly, his amber eyes fierce in the paleness of his face.

"The boy just lost the closest thing he ever had to a father and then you send him a howler to yell at him for doing precisely what the man he just lost did at that age?!"

"Don't even start with me Tonks. Harry isn't ready to be out on his own. He shouldn't be on his own. He's not Sirius. I don't know what Albus was thinking turning two teenage boys loose in Diagon Alley. Don't tell me you support this Nymphadora." Remus said warningly.

"Harry is not a child Remus. You said so yourself just a few months ago."

"No. I said that Harry never got to have a childhood. But that's not the point. Those two don't have the slightest idea about how to live by themselves. I mean – its Neville!" Remus said, and Tonks eyes flashed dangerously.

"Don't you even dare, Lupin, Don't you dare say that. This isn't you Remus."

"You don't know me." Remus said, brushing her aside.

"Well you don't let anyone know you! You're too wrapped up in yourself. Get over it Remus. You weren't the only one who lost someone back there. If you managed to take your head out of the clouds for a second, then maybe you'd notice some things."

"Like what?" He almost snarled.

"Maybe you'd notice that Harry isn't the same thirteen year old that you taught a Patronus to. Maybe you'd notice that Harry didn't think to write you about where he was going. Maybe you'd notice that in order to get you have to give away a little part of yourself. I know it might not seem like there's anything left to give, but the part that you're still holding on to is the one you really need to give up. I don't know what's happened to you Remus. The Remus that I used to know would never of yelled at Harry. The Remus that I used to know would be there with Harry, comforting him and being what Harry needed. But it doesn't seem like you're that guy anymore, and I'm not sure if I want to know the new Remus." Tonks said as her sad gray eyes grew grayer. With one last sad glance at Remus, she turned and left, leaving a lonely wolf to his thoughts.

"Wait, Tonks! Wait!" Remus rushed out of the room a few seconds later.

"Its too late wolf." Phineas said from his portrait. "She apaparated away as soon as she stepped out that door."

"Oh what have I done?" The wolf said softly, sinking into the wall. "What have I done?"

"Seems to me you were just being human…" The painting mumbled, but Remus ignored it.

"Oh Merlin- What have I done?" He said softly before breaking down with his head in his hands. "What have I done?"

* * *

**Author's Note: Thanks for reading… Sorry about the wait. No clue about when the next chapter will be out… But keep waiting, reading and reviewing. As always, I'm open to suggestions or criticism or anything you can provide. Thanks! **

**-Sarak **

**February 7, 2007 8:49 PM**


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer:**_** I don't own Harry Potter and Co., because if I did, then things might be a little different. **_

**Chapter 9 **

Nymphadora Tonks raised her hand to knock on the old wooden door, but then stopped mid-knock.

"Why am I here?" She asked herself and let her thoughts take over again. In the past twelve hours she had done a lot of thinking, perhaps too much thinking. Tonks wasn't used to thinking things out like this. She had always been more of a 'do' person. That was why she was here. She had to do something, and this had seemed the most reasonable.

After that terrible conversation, or verbal spar if you will, with Remus, Tonks had done home to think, but she ended up crying her heart out. She decided it wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that Sirius had died. It wasn't fair that Harry had lost a godfather. It wasn't fair that Remus lost a brother. The more she thought about the more she realized that Harry's life wasn't fair. Yet people were always saying that 'life isn't fair'. Tonks wanted to know if they would still be saying that if they were in Harry's shoes. No, anyone facing that much grief and hardship would be demanding a break. But to her knowledge, Harry had never asked for one. He hadn't once complained about the fairness of life. Harry deserved whatever good things that life could throw at him, she decided.

"I want to be one of the good things." She said firmly, yet quietly. Tonks would give him her full support and be a pillar for him to lean on. But she also wanted to be that pillar for Remus. This is where the conflict came. Based on his actions, Tonks thought Remus was dead set against Harry's decision to live by himself. At first she had been mad. Sure, Remus had lost his last brother, but Harry needed him as a father figure. That was more important. She wanted to scream at him to be the bigger adult and be the father that Harry needed/ But Remus brushed her off, shoved her cold and hard aside. He was changed, different since Sirius's death and not in a good way. Remus withdrew into himself to hide his own pain. In a way, Tonks was beginning to understand him again.

When she saw Harry at the train station, it was like seeing Sirius again. Sirius had left an imprint on Harry. It wasn't big things, but small, almost insignificant little quirks or habits. Sirius had always snapped his fingers. Tonks still remembered how Sirius taught her how to do it when she was five. But whenever Sirius was idle or nervous, or trying to think of something, Sirius would snap his fingers. Just like Harry. It didn't help that Harry's eyes had that same mournful look that Sirius's eyes always held. But just like Sirius, Harry's eyes would all of a sudden glint with mischief. That look wasn't quite the same as Sirius; it was just a little bit different. Tonks supposed that look came from James.

She couldn't imagine what it was like for Remus to look at Harry. Not only did he see James and Lily, but also Sirius. It must be easier to pretend you don't care than to look at Harry. Showing concern through yelling and the mail is definitely easier than looking at that face. Tonks could see why Remus did what he did. She understood how hard it was to look at someone and see someone else looking back. But that didn't mean that she thought Remus was right. Because he wasn't, she thought. Harry needed a face that cared, not a sheet of paper that went through the motions of concern. Tonks sighed. If only Remus would open his eyes, he'd realize that Harry needed him. Harry was already like him. Tonks had witnessed it first hand. Harry had Remus's patience. It was a trait, she heard, that James and Lily never possessed, but one that Harry had in abundance. It was patience that allowed Harry to be calm and save his anger for bigger and better crisis. No way was Tonks going to allow either Harry or Remus to lose that common bond they already had but neither knew existed. She had to act. It was time to stop doing what was easy, and start doing what was right.

"Remus will thank me later." Tonks said and gulped. "Maybe." And she raised her hand to the door to knock. A second later, Tonks was face to face with none other that Minerva McGonagall.

"Tonks?" The transfiguration professor questioned while Tonks gaped at her former professor's hair which was down and out of its usual bun. Blinking her eyes to get out of her daze, the metamorphagus stepped into the door.

"Professor- I need to see Harry." Tonks said and started pacing. McGonagall quietly shut the door and eyed Tonks.

"Why? I assure you he's perfectly safe. Dumbledore and the entire Order agreed. You even agreed with the idea."

"No… err yes, I know that. But I have to see him. Talk to him." Tonks paused and then looked at her former professor with wide doe eyes. "Please Professor?"

McGonagall sighed and sat down in a red chair. "Sit down Tonks and have a biscuit."

Tonks slowly sank into the seat opposite McGonagall and eyes the Ginger Newts warily as she gave McGonagall a bewildered glance.

"I haven't poisoned them." McGonagall said, clearly exasperated. "Go on, take one." Tonks gulped and obeyed. She munched on it rather awkwardly, her chewing rivaling the clock for the loudest sound in the room.

"Why?" McGonagall asked and Tonks looked at her wide eyed again. "Why do toy need to talk to Harry?"

Tonks eyed McGonagall who looked rather a lot like Molly Weasley at the moment. The auror idly wondered why she was more afraid of her old professor than a death eater, but soon dismissed the thought.

"I need to fix it." Tonks said solemnly.

"Fix what?"

"Fix whatever is wrong between Remus and Harry. It isn't right professor. They should be grieving together. Not alone. Not like this. Remus is falling apart. I can't just sit but and let it happen." Tonks said and let out a breath after she was done. The usually stern professor sighed again.

"Tonks, it's not your responsibility to bring Mr. Potter and Remus together. Their relationship is their own and, as such, none of our business. If their choices are self-destructive, then so be it. There is little you or I can do to stop it."

"The let me see him." Tonks voice took on a desperate plea. "Let me help him to manage his grief, if for nothing else than to let me put mine aside. Harry need a constant adult in life and if Remus can't be that adult, then I will instead."

McGonagall looked Tonks squarely in the eye, her look seeming to pierce through to Tonks very soul. Tonks breathed hesitantly, but her eyes never moved. After what seemed like forever, McGonagall spoke.

"Okay."

* * *

"Harry?" A voice said from across the table, but the boy in question did not respond. Instead, he was staring out the window at the small flower garden located the below the window. He was lost in his thoughts. It just didn't make sense. Moony was the last person he would have thought would send him a howler. Did Moony dislike him now or something? Or… Harry didn't dare to think it. Did Moony blame him for Sirius's death?

"Harry?" Neville raised his voice; finally gaining the boy-who-lived's attention.

"What's up Neville?" Harry said, slopping marmalade on his toast.

"Well, er, I was just sort of curious who that Howler was from? Because you never said last night, and, uh, and…" Neville trailed off looking slightly lost. Harry chuckled a little bit.

"Oh, just one of my parent's old friends."

"Really? But I thought you said it was from a professor?" Neville asked, confused and Harry scowled.

"Yeah, I suppose you know him better as Professor Lupin."

"What? Your parents knew Professor Lupin? He was our best teacher."

"Yeah him and my dad and" Harry gulped. "Sirius were best friends at Hogwarts."

Just then the two boys were surprised by a sharp knock and loud crash from the front door. A moment later the two found themselves face to face with Minerva McGonagall and a relatively normal looking Nymphadora Tonks. Neville and Harry both gaped open mouthed at the unlikely pair. Tonks had obviously persuaded McGonagall to tone down the professor bit as he was wearing jeans and a button down white shirt under light blue robes. The biggest difference was her smooth shiny black hair that was pulled out of her usual bun. Tonks had opted for black hair that had a peculiar similarity to Harry's, except longer and slightly less tangled. Her eyes were a stormy blue gray and she wore a halter top and skirt with a light green robe.Tonks and McGonagall looked like they were related, and totally different from their normal appearances.

"Professor?" Neville asked.

"Tonks?" Harry said.

"Well are you going to stand there all day, Mr. Potter, or are you going to let us in?? McGonagall said, a smile playing on her lips.

"Oh, right." Harry said and then stepped aside to the them enter.

"Ohh… Nice digs, Harry." Tonks said stepping in and looking around while she promptly knocked over the umbrella stand.

"Whoops." She said as she righted the stand. McGonagall pursed her lips as Harry struggled not to laugh.

"Really Tonks, I would have thought you would have outgrown that childish clumsy habit of yours by now." McGonagall said as Tonks roller he eyes and turned towards Harry.

"So… Harry… Who's your friend? I don't believe we've met."

"Oh… Right. Tonks, this is Neville Longbottom, he's staying here with me for the summer. Neville this is Nymph-"

"Tonks, just Tonks, Neville." The auror said holding out a hand.

"So… Harry… You ready to shop?" Tonks asked, looking somewhat excited, but Harry only looked confused.

"Huh? Shop?"

"Yeah… Shopping. You know when you pick out something and pay for it and then take it home."

"Oh don't be silly Tonks. I'm sure Mr. Potter knows what shopping is." McGonagall interjected. "What Tonks means to say is that she will be accompanying you today Mr. Potter instead of myself."

"Oh, why not?" Harry asked, somewhat curious as to the reason.

"Even though it is none of your business, I have a prior engagement. Besides, Ms. Tonks is more caught up on the current fashions than I am. I daresay that you will have a much better time with her than myself."

With that comment, Tonks grinned impishly and winked at the two boys causing Harry to laugh and Neville to turn the color of Ron's hair. McGonagall paid them no attention and went on with her speech.

"….. And so Mr. Longbottom will accompany myself on my shopping today."

"I what?" Neville gulped rather too loudly and looked like he'd rather face a room full of Snapes.

"Why you'll be accompanying me today Mr. Longbottom. Didn't you listen when I said it before?"

Neville gulped again and mouthed 'HELP' to Harry who was shaken out of his stupor.

"We can't go together?" Harry asked.

"No, you wanted to go clothes shopping, if I recall correctly Mr. Potter, and all Mr. Longbottom wanted to do was visit Ollivanders, correct?" Both boys nodded and McGonagall continued. "It would be foolish for Mr. Longbottom to spend all day waiting for you to try on clothes or for you to spend all day waiting in Ollivanders. It's better this way. Besides, this way, Mr. Longbottom can give me some input when I pick out your study materials." Harry found himself nodding, even though he didn't really agree. It was hard to argue with McGonagall. Nobody ever really had tried, or if they had tried, won an argument with her. Harry doubted that even the headmaster could best the feisty teacher in a debate.

With a little prodding, Harry and Tonks were off to Muggle London and Neville and McGonagall set off to Flourish and Blotts.

"So, where are we going?" Harry asked as Tonks pulled him into a Muggle taxi.

"Oh, here and there…" Tonks said evasively and the two set off.

* * *

"Now, Mr. Longbottom, I would suggest that Mr. Potter and yourself refresh your memories about magical theory. It might serve you well in the coming months." McGonagall said and chose two books from a small stack on the table. Neville nodded without really paying attention as he eyed the Herbology section and particularly a new text by Plater Lukas Ant, more commonly known as P.L. Ant.

Minerva McGonagall smiled inwardly at the bored look Neville was currently giving her. She knew he too was itching to browse the Herbology section just as she wanted to browse the Transfiguration section. He was more like her than she would ever care to admit. It was a shame that the poor boy wasn't better at Potions, she thought as she glanced at the potions title in her hand. Both Neville and Harry certainly had the aptitude for it. Of all her Gryffindors, they were perhaps the most patient. Neville should be a natural almost with his knowledge of different plants. Perhaps he had never bothered to understand the Potion Reactivity Table.

"Mr. Longbottom, have you memorized the Potion Reactivity Table?"

"The what?"

"The Potion Reactivity Table." McGonagall said, but was only greeted by Neville's confused stare. "Oh, dear me. " She said ash she reached for the nearest book on Potion theory and flipped it open to a chart resembling a Muggle periodic table. "That is the Potion Reactivity Table." McGonagall said shoving the book under her student's nose. Neville's eyes grew wide as he took it all in.

"This is amazing." He whispered as he reached for the book and scanned the contents. "This explains why you can't add apsodhal and wormroot. They're too similar of course." Neville grinned at the page, but McGonagall looked at her student in horror.

"Don't tell me you've never seen one before, Longbottom. "

"Why not Professor? Should I have?" Neville asked nonchalant and buried himself back in the book. McGonagall scowled darkly.

"Snape." She breathed vehemently. "When I get through with you… "Then an aide popped into her head. The look of horror on Snape's face when Potter and Longbottom arrived in NEWT potions next year would be priceless. No one got the better of her Gryffindors.

"Come along Neville, we have work to do." McGonagall went along the aisle grabbing two of every potion theory and making book that she could find. Neville Longbottom and Harry Potter, the two most celebrated worst Potion brewers in Hogwarts history, were getting outstandings on their Potions OWLS. Even if it killed her, Minerva McGonagall was determined that it would the last thing she'd do.

* * *

Harry Potter felt like he was a first year back at Diagon Alley for the first time. He had no idea that there were this many choices when it came to fashion for boys his age. He had no idea where to begin. Tonks eyed Harry with a smirk playing on her lips. The poor boy looked clueless. Evidently this was his first shopping trip to Muggle London.

"Feeling a little overwhelmed, Harry?"

"Err, Yeah, you could say that." Harry said looking around nervously. "I don't even know where to start." Tonks grinned and Harry suddenly felt like he should be frightened.

"Pants Harry. Let me show you the inter workings of guy's jeans." She said as she pulled Harry over to the nearest rack.

About an hour later, Harry finally felt like he was starting to get a hang of this whole pants thing. He had never known how many kinds of pants there were. He thought there were jeans, khakis and dress pants and that was it. Boy was he wrong. Tonks wasted no time in setting him straight. It turned out that each genera (jeans, khakis and dress pants) was divided into even more categories such as cool, nerdy, preppy, punk, boring, old man, Goth and TUTTO, or too ugly to try on. Apparently, Harry didn't get why cool was cool. He didn't see how more holes in your jeans made you cooler, and how black baggy jeans with straps and chains made you Goth. He really didn't get the whole punk/skateboarder look. Harry had no idea how pants that tight could possibly be that comfortable. Tonks had made him try everything though with the exception of those that fell into the TUTTO category. Harry had finally settled for something in between boring and cool. They weren't covered with holes, but they had that well worn stonewashed 'I'm-not-trying-too-hard' look to them. But that was just the jeans. Tonks made sure that Harry had an ample amount of jeans and shorts before moving on to khakis and dress pants. Here the variety was somewhat lessened, so Tonks made the executive decision to go with sophisticated prep, not that Harry really cared. He didn't really envision himself wearing dress pants during the summer. He got enough of that at school, so why bother during his only free moments of the year?

Tonks then led Harry over to the t-shirt aisle. Well more section that aisle. This time it was Harry's turn to do all the picking. Harry brought over shirts that caught his eye and Tonks nodded yes or no. The process actually worked really well. Harry ended up with a lot of shirts that coordinated well together. He also made sure to pick up some casual button ups and polo's while Tonks chose the rest of his Muggle dress clothes. Harry thought they were done, but in reality it was far from over. Tonks dragged him, literally, over to the undergarments. When Harry turned as red as Ron and refused to pick anything out, Tonks proceeded to pick out some of the most garish designs she could find. It was then that Harry intervened and threw in some more conservative garments. They bought enough socks to keep Harry's feet happy for the rest of his life and threw some pajamas into the cart as well. Tonks also grabbed some exercise clothes before Harry could protest and told him they might come in handy for Quidditch training. The leather store next door was having a sale so Harry was soon the new owner of a brown leather bomber jacket in addition to a rain coat, black dress coat, and new winter parka that Tonks had insisted on buying. On the way to the shoe store, Tonks spotted a messenger bag and backpack that Harry just had to have. By now, Harry had just learned to say 'ok' rather than argue, because he would surely lose. It was easier. The shoe adventure, as Tonks dubbed it, took almost as long as the quest for jeans. Tonks was as much shopping for herself as she was for Harry inside the shoe store. Harry exited the store with a couple new pairs of dress shoes, Chuck Taylors, Doc Martins, sneakers and sandals. Tonks claimed her wallet was going to suffer from the six pairs she had bought even thought she was still gushing about her new magenta stilettos ten minutes later when they stopped outside a barber.

"Harry…" Tonks looked at her charge slyly.

"Er… Yeah?"

"When was the last time you cut your hair?"

"My hair?" Harry asked while scowling at a rather belligerent lock that kept falling into his eyes. "Umm… Well its been a long time. Since before I started Hogwarts, maybe nine or ten years. The last time my aunt took me to get it cut, I didn't like it. She basically made me get a buzz cut everywhere except my bangs to hide my scar. It looked bloody awful. The next day it all grew back, and I haven't been to a barber since."

"I wonder…" Tonks looked thoughtful for a moment before turning back to Harry. "Do you want to get it cut?"

"You mean really cut my hair?" Tonks nodded enthusiastically. "I don't know. I've never really worn it any other way."

"Well now's as good as time as any." Tonks said and pulled Harry into the shop.

Harry Potter, or the one familiar to the wizarding world, had walked into the shop dreading the outcome of his haircut. But the boy who walked out was almost unrecognizable. He sported new clothes, attitude and hair. He bore almost no resemblance to the boy-who-lived. The only similarity was the thick-framed black glasses, which Harry planned to trash after a quick visit to the wizard optometrist. Harry had been a bit anxious when the barber said that he was going to cut it short enough for his scar to show, but Harry decided that he liked his new haircut a lot more than he disliked his old scar, so the two evened out. His chorincally messy hair was still messy, but now it looked like it was supposed to be that way. It was shorter and stuck up all over, but somehow looked good. Without his hair hanging down and covering up half of his face, Harry discovered that he actually didn't look like a little kid anymore. In fact, his new clothes made him appear his age for once, and not too small or too skinny or even too short. He had changed into a dark pair of blue jeans combined with an emerald and black t-shirt, and a new pair of Chuck Taylors. Harry discovered something that most girls already knew. New clothes went a long way in making you feel like a new person. Harry hadn't even really thought about what people saw then the looked at him, but now he was seeing that clothes really said a lot about your personality. Harry was determined to make sure that from now on his clothing choice would thoroughly explain his personality.

* * *

Neville had decided that he was in love with weightless charms. He and McGonagall had just left Flourish and Blotts, taking what seemed like half the store with them. Neville would've been staggering under the weight if it hadn't been for the weightless charms on the bags of books.

"Come along, Mr. Longbottom. We're almost late for Ollivanders." McGonagall said looking at her watch. Neville sprinted to keep up with her, dodging various shoppers in the alley. Finally the pair arrived at Ollivanders. Neville looked at the store with mixed feelings of excitement and apprehension. He had always wanted to go into the store and find his own special wand but now he wasn't so sure. However, Minerva McGonagall was more than sure and pushed the apprehensive boy into the dusty shop.

A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as they stepped inside. It was a tiny place, and empty except for a tiny spindly chair that McGonagall promptly sat down upon to wait. Neville felt like he had just stepped foot into Madam Pince's library back at Hogwarts and the stern librarian would be bearing down upon him any minute. He swallowed his spit nervously and looked at the thousands of narrow boxes piled neatly up to the ceiling. For some reason, the back of his neck prickled. The very dust and silence in here seemed to tingle with some secret magic. A magic that Neville would soon be able to call his own.

"Good morning," a soft voice said. Neville jumped, but McGonagall just stayed seated, looking almost bored. An old man was standing before them, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop. Yes, Neville thought, Dean was right. Mr. Ollivander's eyes definitely weren't natural.

"Err. Hello." Neville said awkwardly.

"Ah yes," the man replied. "Yes, yes. I knew you would be coming. It's about time, too. Neville Longbottom. You have your mother's face." Neville gulped, he didn't hear that very often. "It seems like just yesterday the she was here buying her first wand, when you get as old as me, time seems to slow. Let me see, it was nine and three quarters inches, swishy and made from a fresh birch tree. Beautiful wand for Healing."

Mr. Ollivander moved a little closer to Neville, and Neville wished he would back away. The guy was just creepy.

"Aye, but there is some of your father in you, quite a bit too. Its there, lurking just beneath the surface. Walnut, twelve inches, pliable, quite a bit of power behind that wand too. Nice wand for Defense." Ollivander gave Neville a piercing look that seemed to garner the truth from Neville's soul.

"Hmm… But you are your own person, are you not?" He asked, again his eyes piercing Neville. "Tell me lad, what are you good at?"

"Her… Herbology." Neville said quietly.

"What? I'm afraid you'll have to speak louder than that son. These ears aren't what they used to be." Ollivander bent down to hear Neville.

"Herbology sir," Neville said a little louder with more confidence.

"Curious… Well, now, lets see." Ollivander pulled out a long tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket. "Now which is your wand arm?"

"My left," Neville said and held out his arm. The tape measure began to measure all on its own as Ollivander talked. "Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Mr. Longbottom. I use unicorn hair, phoenix tail feathers, the heartstrings of dragons among other things. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two things on this earth are the same. And of course, as I'm sure you well know, you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand. But it is admirable of you to have come this far without your own."

Ollivander had gone to the wall of his shop and was pulling out boxes.

"That will do," He said to the tape measure and it fell into a crumpled heap on the floor. "Right then, Mr. Longbottom. Give this one a wave. Maple and phoenix feather."

Neville had barely grasped the wand when Ollivander snatched it out of his hand.

"Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Ten inches. Try – "

Neville tried- but he had barely waved it up when it too was snatched back by Mr. Ollivander. McGonagall was watching with suppressed interest.

"No, no, that simply won't do. Here, Holly and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches."

Neville tried not to get panicked by the growing number of wands that didn't work, but was failing dismally. What if there wasn't a wand for him? But Ollivander just seemed to get more and more excited with each new wand. McGonagall had gotten up from the chair and was watching avidly as Neville tried wand after wand.

"Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match here somewhere- I wonder, now- yes, you liked Herbology you say- unusual combination- ebony and mandrake root, eleven and a quarter inches, nice and firm. Go on give it a wave."

The moment Neville saw the wand, he knew it was different from the others. There was something familiar about the wand and the magic surrounding it. It was like the wand had been waiting for him. As Neville grasped the wand, he felt sudden warmth in his fingers that spread all over his body to the very tips of his toes. He raised the wand above his head, and brought it swishing down through the dusty air. A stream of white and green sparks shot from the end like fireworks. McGonagall smiled, Neville grinned, and Mr. Ollivander clapped his hands together.

"Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good." He said his pale eyes practically glowing with excitement. Neville however felt odd. The warmth that had first shot through him hadn't gone away. He was getting hotter, and dizzier. The room started to spin as he tried to focus on McGonagall, but couldn't.

"Neville? Neville? What's happening?" McGonagall was looking at him, trying to figure out why he couldn't seem to stand up straight. All of a sudden Neville crumpled onto the floor, his eyes rolling into the back of his head.

"NEVILLE?!" McGonagall rushed to the side of her student, intent on bringing him back. "Enervate." She said firmly, pointing her own ten inch mahogany wand at Neville, but he wouldn't wake up.

"Enervate. Enervate. ENERVATE." She tried again but to no avail, Neville Longbottom was out cold.

"Oh dear me," Mr. Ollivander said, his eyes going even wider if that was possible. McGonagall scowled at him.

"Well don't just sit there. Call a healer for Merlin's sake." She said as she cradled Neville in her arms, desperately wishing for him to open his eyes.

* * *

Across town, a certain Harry Potter crumbled into a surprised Nymphadora Tonks arms.

"Oh very funny, Harry." She said and shoved him off. The young auror watched in horror as he fell to the floor, not moving. Turning him over, she saw his eyes roll into the back of his head, and screamed. Everyone walking around the two stopped, and looked at the young woman who frantically clutched the boy to her. She sobbed into his chest.

"No Harry. Not now. You can't. Things were going to be better." She wailed as sirens sounded in the distance. The group around the two closed in and a kind Muggle man reached for Harry's hand.

"It'll be okay. The ambulance is on the way." He said, trying to calm the distressed metamorphagus. Tonks looked up at him and her tear filled eyes flashed dangerously.

"Don't you touch him," she said, and the man immediately took a step back. "Don't you even come near him," she said and the crowd started to back off as Tonks started to cry again, and pulled Harry into her arms.

"Please wake up Harry. Please." She pleaded as she leaned over him, sharing the same wish as Minerva McGonagall. "Please wake up."

* * *

Some distance away, deep in a castle in the countryside, a man sat upright. He had felt it. It was happening. The thing he had been waiting for was happening as he sat there. He smiled wryly and turned to the two men sitting with him.

"It has begun."

* * *

Sarak

_Live, Love, and Review_


	10. White Plaster Ceilings

Chapter 10

**White Plaster Ceilings**

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the enjoyment that I get from writing about J.K. Rowling's characters.

Harry opened his eyes to a white ceiling yet again. But this time there was something different about this ceiling. It wasn't quite the same as the one Harry was so familiar with. The ceiling of the hospital wing at Hogwarts was made of wood that had been painted white. Harry had spent so much time there that he had counted all the knots in the wood. 237 last time he checked. But there weren't any knots in the ceiling currently above Harry's head. It was made of some sort of plaster. Harry blinked, trying to figure out where he was when a sea of red and orange came into view.

"Mate! You're awake!" Ron sounded relieved and Harry wondered why. He didn't even remember what happened. One minute he was joking with Tonks and the next he was waking up to white plaster ceilings.

"Yeah." Harry croaked out and then frowned. Since when did his voice 'croak'? Harry blinked and stared at Ron mystified. Ron looked different somehow… It was like he had more freckles or something, or maybe Harry could just see more freckles.

"What's the matter mate?" Ron asked. "D'you want your glasses? I'm not quite sure what the nurse did with them." Ron said and started rummaging around looking underneath the piles of colorful candy boxes and the mountain of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes merchandise. Harry, meanwhile, put his hand to his face as if expecting his glasses to already be there. He had realized what was different. Everything was in perfect focus. Better than perfectly actually.

"Ron-" The boy in question looked up. "Stop. It's okay, I don't need them." Harry said to his friend.

"What? But you're blinder than a Niffler without your glasses. I should know too after-"

"Nah, it's weird, but I don't need them anymore." Harry said, shrugging his shoulders.

"But… oh… the Healer said you might be a little different. I guess she was right."

"Wait. Healer? Are we at-?"

"St. Mungo's. Yeah." Ron was suddenly suspicious. "Don't you remember?"

"No. The last thing I can think of was walking with Tonks. Then I woke up here."

"Blimey Mate. You really don't remember. I suppose not though. Tonks said you were out cold. She thought you'd died or something."

"Really?"

"Yeah, one minute you're talking and the next you're lying on a heap on the floor, Tonks was near hysterical, Charlie said. They practically had to sedate her too so they could get you here before the amsbulence made it to that Muggle hospitable." Harry felt an urge to laugh at Ron's version of events. He was starting to agree with Hermione that they should have forced him into taking Muggle Studies. But he'd let it slide for now.

"Charlie?"

"Yeah, he's home for the summer. He and Kingsley went and got you and brought you here."

"Oh…" Harry fell silent to ponder something now that the mystery of his arrival was settled. "Hey Ron?"

"Yeah?"

"How long was I out?"

"Err… Two days, I think. Dumbledore was starting to get worried. Neville woke up ages ago."

"Wait! Neville's here?"

"Yeah, one room over. He'll be glad to know you're awake. He was pretty worried when you didn't wake up right away."

"Why is Neville here?" Harry asked, still mystified.

"Oh… Well he just collapsed around the same time you did. Right in the middle of Ollivander's. McGonagall said that's the only time she's ever seen Mr. Ollivander surprised like that. But she didn't look too good herself, according to Charlie. He said she was almost as bad as Tonks when they couldn't figure out what was wrong with you and Neville."

"So they don't know what happened to us?" Harry asked, a little bit concerned now.

"Well, not officially, but I think Dumbledore does. He was talking to this old guy out in the hallway when I got here yesterday about some Schwartzgoft Clock thingy. D'you have any idea what that even is?" Ron asked, but it looked like he didn't expect Harry to know anything about it either.

"The Schwarshoff Block?"

"The what?" Ron looked confused but Harry was excited.

"The Schwarshoff Block, Ron." Harry said, and suddenly realized that this was what Hermione must feel like whenever she had to explain things to him and Ron. Harry made a quick mental promise to start paying more attention to her. "When me and Neville were little, our mums gave us this potion called the Schwarshoff Block. It puts most of your magical power under this block thing. Well anyway, it's meant to be taken off slowly- like a little at a time to give the person more control over their magic. But our mums died –"

"Before they told anyone." Comprehension was dawning on Ron's face. Sometime Harry thought Ron was smarter than he and Hermione gave him credit for. "Wait- but why's it coming off now? Did you and Neville take some potion or something to make it come off?"

"Nah, there's a fail safe built into the potion. Fifteen years after you take it, the remainder of the block will come off."

"Oh..." Ron nodded. "So what's this mean?" Harry was about to reply, but then hesitated and thought for a second.

"I …uh… don't really know." Ron gave him a blank look. "Well this has really only happened once before."

"Oh?" Ron raised an eyebrow, and Harry hid his face.

"Err… Yeah." Ron was starting to get suspicious.

"So what happened to the other guy?"

"Well, he, err… died."

"What?" Ron's voice was almost too quiet.

"You know… He went kaput, or bang… I think the Americans say 'kicked the bucket' or some nonsense like that… he just sort of blew up." Harry looked at his friend who was staring at him as if he was mad.

"What do you mean 'Blew up'?" Ron said, but stopped when he heard his voice echoing in the hallway. Except that it wasn't his voice, it was louder and higher and more feminine.

"Now Molly-" They heard Dumbledore try to reason with her, and realized that Ron's mother must have found out what happened to the other case of the Schwarshoff Block.

"What next Albus? The boy lost his parents, his Godfather and now he's got some life-threatening situation hanging over his head. Wait, not just life threatening. I forgot. He's in danger of 'BLOWING UP'!" Mrs. Weasley's voice had gotten progressively louder until it reached new heights that even Ron was shaking his head at.

"Come now Molly, its not as bad as all that." Harry could hear Nick trying to reason with her.

"I wasn't finished!" She said sharply. "What are you going to tell me next? That he's suddenly decided to go live out on the streets?"

"Well not exactly the streets." Dumbledore said cautiously. Ron threw Harry a questioning glance, but Harry shrugged it off just before Mrs. Weasley exploded.

"What do you mean 'not exactly'? You can't mean to tell me that a fifteen year old boy is living alone!"

"Almost sixteen…" Harry said under his breath, idly wondering why people such as Mrs. Weasley liked to treat him as a child.

"Well not alone." A voice in the hall said. Harry couldn't tell if it was Nick or Dumbledore by this point.

"If it's not with an adult than it certainly is alone!"

"Calm down." Harry recognized the cool voice of Wolf. "Let him have some freedom. He's more responsible than you make him out to be."

"Responsibility?" Molly repeated incredulously. "He's fifteen! What can he know about responsibility? And 'freedom'? Oh yes… freedom." The sarcasm in her voice could rival Snape's any day of the week.

"A little freedom never hurt anybody." Wolf said coolly and Ron winced in anticipation.

"Now he's done it," said Ron and Harry nodded.

"Never hurt anybody? Oh, well I suppose you're an expert? Yes, you who I suppose had plenty of freedom growing up." Harry could just imagine Wolf cowering as Mrs. Weasley jabbed her finger into him. "Well now look at you. Some dirty low life who probably spends half his time waiting tables in the Hogshead." Harry started to grin and he imagined Nick and Dumbledore doing the same. 'If only she knew how right she was' he thought. "I will NOT have that for Harry. He bloody will be better than that." Ron was frozen in shock at hearing his mother cuss, but someone out in the hall coughed to hide a chuckle. Harry imagined it was probably Nick. The man did always seem to have a death wish.

"Think this is funny do you? Well its not. This is a living, breathing, fifteen year old boy for Merlin's sake. I won't have you treating his life like its some kind of joke."

"Molly, now wait a minute. Surely you don't know who this is?"

"I know bloody well who it is, thank you Albus. Nicolas Flamel-"

"Wait, isn't he supposed to be dead?" Ron whispered. Harry shook his head and put his finger to his lips. He wanted to hear the rest.

"-it must be nice being that old." The sarcasm was falling off Molly's voice in droves now. "Everyone treats you like you're so full of wisdom and knowledge. But I know better. Under that wizened façade, you're no better than Him, putting countless children in danger, and not to mention almost killing three eleven year olds, all to protect your selfish little stone. You're despicable. I –"

"Eh-hem," A gruff voice interrupted. "I hate to break up this little argument," Harry and Ron recognized the voice as Moody's. "But I thought you should know- Potter's awake."

There was a brief silence in the hallway and then a mad race for the door. Mrs. Weasley was of course, the first one in, followed closely by Dumbledore with Nick and Wolf in a distant third and fourth respectively. The two looked to be staying as far away from Molly as possible.

"Oh Harry." Mrs. Weasley sighed and practically ran to his bedside. "Are you okay? Do you hurt anywhere?" Harry mentally rolled his eyes as Ron snickered. The display out in the hall was touching, but really now. He was almost sixteen. Mrs. Weasley could be a little overprotective at times. Harry looked around to find Dumbledore's bright blue eyes twinkling extra bright at Harry.

"Ah, Harry, my boy. I was wondering when you would awake. Lemon drop?" Harry almost laughed. Old habits die hard.

"No thank you si-" Harry paused, as if waging a huge mental war within his mind. Then he grinned. "Actually, don't mind if I do." Harry said taking the offered candy. The rest of the room eyed him warily as Dumbledore grinned proudly. Coincidentally, all of them were having the same thought. 'Just how much had Harry Potter changed?'

"Oh, Harry dear, here are your glasses. Tonks had me fix them after they broke when you fell." Mrs. Weasley said taking a familiar set of spectacles out of her handbag, but Harry shook his head.

"No, it's alight Mrs. Weasley. I don't need them anymore." Harry and Ron were the only two in the room who weren't wide-eyed and slack-jawed.

"Harry, my boy, do you mind standing up for me?" Dumbledore said, as he was the first one to recover. He was eyeing Harry rather curiously now.

"What?" Harry looked bewildered.

"Just curiosity my boy." Harry shrugged and got to his feet, only to fall right back on to the bed.

"That's weird." Harry said, sitting on the bed. "I couldn't balance at all."

"Here, try it again mate." Ron said, offering an arm. Harry slowly got to his feet. This time Harry noticed the room's reactions. Mrs. Weasley frowned, Dumbledore twinkled all the brighter, and Nick raised an eyebrow. Wolf, as always, appeared indifferent. Ron was even looking at him strangely.

"What?" Harry asked, feeling a little weird by all the staring.

"Well, uh, mate, you're, uh, tall." Ron said in kind of awe.

"Tall? What do you mean tall?" Harry asked, but looking around, he knew. Before he had barely reached Ron's nose, but now they stood eye to eye. Dumbledore no longer seemed gastronomically tall, and Mrs. Weasley looked to be on the verge of short. Well at least that explained his sudden lack of grace. Growing five inches overnight will do that to a person.

"Why, Mr. Potter! I must protest!" A middle aged blonde healer stood in the doorway. "What are you doing out of bed?"

"I…was…uh…" Harry was at a loss for words. The healer bore a remarkable resemblance to Madame Pomfrey with a decidedly sterner look in her eye. Harry gathered that she was not one to cross.

"Madame Healer, he was merely satisfying our collective curiosity." Nick said charmingly, rising out of his chair. The healer threw him a sharp look.

"Curiosity killed the cat, Mr.-"

"Flamel, Nicolas Flamel." He said with a smile, hoping to get a rise out of her, but was awarded with no more than a raised eyebrow. It seemed that nothing could shake this woman.

"Very well. Curiosity killed the car, Mr. Flamel, but it will not claim young Mr. Potter here. At least not on my watch it won't. Mr. Potter is recovering from serious magical trauma. It would do you all well to remember that. That said, I must ask you all to leave." She was met with outrage and shock on every face in the room. Evidently, the room's occupants were not used to being told what to do by someone half their age, or half the age of Albus, Wolf and Nick. She gave them all a stern look worthy of McGonagall, but Harry saw a sparkling bit of mischief in her eye. But as quick as it came, it was gone again.

"Mr. Potter needs his rest; something I highly doubt will be happening if I allow you all to stay."

"But, but!" Again there was resistance. However, all were silenced by another look from the Healer. Molly Weasley looked as though she'd much rather give the Healer a piece of her mind, but was reluctantly pushed out into the hall after Wolf and Nick by Ron, who kept looking back with sympathy. Obviously, Ron was happy not to be in Harry's shoes at the moment. It appeared that Ron would rather face the wrath of his mother than the wrath of an irate healer. Not that Harry would blame him. He'd take Molly Weasley over an incensed Madame Pomfrey any day of the week. The only one who had not vacated the room in favor of safer waters was Professor Dumbledore, who very much looked like he wanted to put his two cents in. But Madame Healer wasn't about to let him.

"When I said everyone, I meant everyone, Headmaster Dumbledore. There will be plenty of time to visit Mr. Potter later. For now, you must trust St. Mungo's with his care." The healer did not look happy. Dumbledore looked to be having an internal debate. It looked iffy there for a moment, but eventually his logical side won out.

"Of course, Madame -?"

"Tondora." The healer supplied, and Harry noticed the glint again, but again it disappeared after a couple of seconds.

"I will of course be taking my leave, Madame Tondora. I merely wished to inform Mr. Potter of myself and Mr. Flamel's intent to visit at a later time. Perhaps when Mr. Potter is feeling more up to visitors?"

"We'll see." Madame Tondora said through clenched teeth, but Harry nodded. Dumbledore made a beeline for the door, and the Healer shut it firmly behind him. Turning to face Harry, the mischievous glint was back.

"Wotcher Harry."

Harry's mouth dropped open. Of all the things he had been expecting, well this certainly wasn't one of them. Merlin, this didn't even make the list.

"Tonks?" Harry asked dumbly.

"A.K.A. Madame Tondora." She replied and morphed into her usual looks. Her hair changed shades rapidly before settling with a bright magenta. Removing the lime green Healer's robes that clashed horribly with her hair revealed an orange dress that clashed just as bad. "I nicked these from the supply closet. It's one of my better aliases actually, even managed to fool Dumbledore. Now if that ain't talent, then I don't know what is."

"Why are you here?"

"Mad-Eye thought you were looking a bit overrun. Said you looked like you needed some peace and quiet. That's where I came in. I flooed over, put on my best impression of Madame Pomfrey, minus the blonde hair of course, and rushed in to save the day. Did it work?" She asked, a little apprehensive that her and Mad-Eye's master plan wasn't needed or appreciated. Harry grinned at her though.

"What? The Pomfrey impersonation or the saving the day thing?"

"Both."

"Yeah…It was great. I wish you hadn't kicked Ron out though. I never get to see him during the summer."

"Well I couldn't let him stay without it looking suspicious."

"I suppose." Harry said and Tonks sat down on the edge of the bed.

"How you feeling, kid?"

"I don't know… It's hard to describe. Different. More alive, you know what I mean?"

"Sort-of…" Tonks said quietly. "So I noticed you're without your glasses. Does this mean the boy-wonder can finally see?" She teased and ruffled his hair. Harry grinned up at her.

"It's amazing Tonks! My eyesight is ten times better! And did you see how tall I was? No more looking up to Ron, that's for sure." Tonks chuckled as Harry started to frown.

"What's the matter Harry?" Tonks asked noticing the mood swing.

"Oh, nothing." He said, but relented after a stern look. "Ok, so I was just thinking that all those clothes we bought wouldn't fit anymore. Sorry for wasting your day." Harry said as Tonks threw back her head and laughed.

"Is that all?" She asked and Harry's expression flashed a moment of hurt. "Harry, I was going to have you take all your clothes to a wizard tailor anyways in Diagon Alley."

"Wizard tailor?" Harry was confused.

"Yeah. You didn't think that the entirety of wizarding Britain depended on Madame Malkin's for robes did you?" Harry scowled, and Tonks laughed. "Well you're a boy, so I guess it's alright. But anyways, a wizard tailor custom makes robes and clothes. It's a lot longer process than Madame Malkin's and much more expensive too. I was going to have you get dress robes from him. But anyways, he has this nifty little charm for clothes. He can attune clothes to a person's magic so that they will always grow or shrink to fit. I have to get that charm for my wardrobe otherwise my clothes would be inconvenient during-"

Tonks was cut off quickly by the sound of a soft knock followed by the door opening quietly. Both Harry and Tonks stared at the door. Framed by the door was the person both desperately wanted to see, yet couldn't stand at the same time. The person in question looked uncomfortable under their gaze, but still stood tall, as if exuding confidence that he didn't have. Standing in the doorframe was Remus Lupin.

"Harry…" Remus said as his gaze led him face to face with Tonks. "Tonks… I didn't know you'd be here." Remus looked generally surprised to see Tonks.

"Trust me Lupin; if I'd known you'd be here, I wouldn't have bothered to show up. No offense Harry." Tonks flashed sympathy to Harry, but her gaze was like ice when it turned to Remus.

"Tonks, please. We need to talk. Please I didn't –" Remus said softly taking a step towards her, but her eyes flashed dangerously.

"No, Remus. Not now. I'm not ready to listen. –And even if I was, I don't think I'd want to hear it." Tonks looked deep into Remus, almost as if her icy eyes could see right through him. The werewolf looked hesitant, but concern and regret were clearly etched on his face. Harry eyed the pair with confusion. He didn't know that the two were on the outs. Harry wasn't too ecstatic with Remus right now either, but he wondered what had happened to get the two so far apart. Last he had heard they seemed pretty close. But the present situation suggested otherwise. As Tonks turned to face Harry, her icy glare softened.

"Sorry Harry, but I can't stay. I have… uh… I have to help Mad-Eye wash his eyeball. He's been complaining about it rubbing lately." Harry could tell Tonks was trying to break the tension she had created in the room, but it wasn't working. No one was laughing. "I just have to go Harry. I'll be back later. Wotcher."

As Tonks turned, her icy eyes came back into focus.

"Tonks- wait." Remus reached out a hang to touch her shoulder, but she shrugged it off.

"Leave me alone." She said, not even bothering to look back as she left the room. Remus's hand was left hanging. He could only stare at the door she had left through.

"So…" Remus almost jumped at Harry's voice. "What happened to you two?" Remus thought quietly before replying.

"We, uh, had a disagreement." Remus said evasively. Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Well that's obvious. What about?" Remus looked down at Harry and almost cringed. He hung his head in shame. He didn't want to tell Harry that he was part of it, but neither did he want to lie. There was something about those somber green eyes that just made you want to tell the truth. Remus decided to settle for the truth, well part of the truth.

"Tonks doesn't think I've been handling Sirius's death well." Remus said quietly.

"Have you?" Harry asked, looking Remus in the eye. Remus tried to look away, but found that he couldn't.

"No. She's right Harry. I haven't been myself since it… it happened." Harry said nothing and looked out the window. After a moment he spoke so softly that Remus had to strain his ears to listen.

"For a while, I wasn't either." Harry said softly. Remus sat down on the edge of Harry's bed. Looking downtrodden, Remus took Harry's hand.

"I'm sorry cub."

"For what?" Harry looked taken aback/

"For everything. I should've been there. I should've helped you through it. Instead all I did was send you a stupid howler, filled with stuff I didn't mean."

"Why?" It was the only question that Harry wanted answers to. It was a fair question. Remus sighed before answering.

"I was scared."

"Of what?" Harry didn't understand.

"Of losing more people. It's one of my greatest fears. I see a moon in my boggart because that's why people alienate me. I'm even more scared of losing those that don't judge me for being a werewolf. It almost killed me when your parents died. Lately I've been thinking that if I'm not close to anyone, then I won't have to feel the pain again."

"But you're here… So what made you stop?"

"Something your father told me once." Harry leaned forward, interested to hear anything and everything about his father.

"It was in our sixth year after a particularly violent shouting match with Lily. He asked her out and she threw a vase at his head. I think that was one of the only times that Lily ever got detention…" Remus trailed off, as if being absorbed by the memory. "But anyways, I was sitting with James in the hospital wing as Madame Pomfrey patched him up. 'Why do you even bother James?' I asked and he looked at me incredulously. 'Well I'm in love,' he said. 'You have to fight for what you love.' I couldn't believe what he was saying. 'But you're losing the fight!' I protested. 'But when I win, the victory will be better.' He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world, and really it is. You have to fight for what you love."

From her vantage point in the hall, Tonks smiled. Maybe there was hope for Remus after all.

"Excuse me, Miss?" Tonks turned around when a woman tapped her shoulder.

"Yes?" Tonks arched an eyebrow. She didn't have any patience for hospital stricken Quidditch mums looking for the gift shop.

"I'm sorry, I don't usually do this, but do you know which room is Neville Longbottom's?"

"That one." Tonks pointed across the hall from the door she was currently eavesdropping at.

"Thanks." The woman whispered and turned to place her hand on the doorknob.

"Wait." Tonks said. "You might not want to do that. Neville's been at it with his grandmother for the past half hour."

"Oh, I guess I'll wait then." Losing all soccer-momish dignity, the woman leaned on the wall and slumped to the floor. Tonks suppressed the urge to roll her eyes and went back to listened at the door. Unfortunately, Remus and Harry weren't speaking very loudly.

"Thanks by the way." The woman said, but Tonks waved her off. Honestly, hadn't she already said thanks?

"I wouldn't have wanted to get in the way of Nora Longbottom… So who's in there?" The woman was craning her neck to get a look. Tonks turned to face her, effectively blocking the door.

"Harry Potter." The woman's face lit up, but Tonks eyed her suspiciously. "Why? You know him?"

"Well yes, err, no. Sort-of, I suppose, more like I know of him." She said and Tonks hid a laugh.

"Most everyone 'knows of' Harry Potter. Well at least everyone in England anyway." Tonks said making no effort to hide her sarcasm. To her surprise the woman threw back her head and laughed.

"Oh no. That's not what I meant. You see, I knew Harry back before he got the scar, although he wouldn't remember me. I was great friends with his mother at Hogwarts." The woman smiled wistfully. "Me, Lily, and Alice." She gestured to Neville's room. "I haven't seen Harry since before Lily and James went into hiding. I used to baby-sit him all the time. These days I read about him in the paper. Do you know Harry, Ms.?" The woman gave Tonks a questioning smile.

"Tonks. Nymphadora Tonks. But I prefer Tonks. I know Harr-"

"Wait. Tonks like Andromeda Tonks?" The young auror nodded at the woman. "Tonks like Sirius's cousin Tonks?" She nodded again.

"You know me, Ms…?" Tonks queried.

"Jones. Well, I only sort-of know of you, never really met you before now I guess. But Sirius used to talk about your family all the time. Oh and how rude of me. I'm Hestia –"

"Jones? Hestia Jones!"

"Remus?! Moony!" Hestia looked a lot more thrilled than Tonks to see the old werewolf. "Where have you been, you ol' scoundrel?"

"Well here and there, I suppose. So you here to see Neville or…" Remus trailed off as he pointed to the room behind him. Tonks used the distraction to back away into a corner where she could still here the conversation.

"I wanted to pay Neville a visit and see if I could snag an introduction with Harry. I haven't seen him since well… umm…" Hestia's cheerfulness suddenly evaporated. Remus gave her a sad smile.

"That's kind of what seeing Harry is like. Well for me at last. I can't help but see Lily and James in him, Sirius sometimes too. But you have to focus on the good memories. You sure you want to meet him?" Remus gave her an appraising look, which Hestia pondered.

"Yes. It's like you said, right? You have to remember the good. But first, I want to hear about you. We haven't chatted in forever. Tell me, how is your fabulous love life?" Hestia asked and Tonks heard Remus hesitate.

"Well, I, uh, I'm not sure I have one. Actually I don't." Tonks blinked furiously to hold back tears, as Remus's voice took on a teasing tone. "And you Ms. Jones? What men are deserving of your attention these days?" Tonks could picture him smiling as Hestia laughed.

"Oh, Remus, you know you're the only one for me." She said and laughed again.

Tonks couldn't believe her ears. Sure, she and Remus hadn't announced their relationship to the world, but that didn't mean it wasn't there, right? Wrong. Hestia's laugh filled the hallway again. Very wrong. It wasn't fair that Hestia got to laugh with Remus when all Tonks could do was glare. It wasn't supposed to be this way. This was only supposed to be a rough patch. They were supposed to pull through this. Things hadn't been great since Sirius died with her and Remus, but they weren't this bad. It wasn't fair that he could just brush them off like it hadn't ever happened. Did this mean they were broken up? Could you even be 'broken up' if you hadn't been officially dating to begin with? Somewhere, Tonks was sure, someone, maybe Fate or Cupid, was laughing at her dismal attempts at love. Tonks couldn't get the sound out of her head. Oddly enough, Cupid's laugh sounded like Hestia Jones. The woman who shouldn't exist. The woman who shouldn't be in Remus's or even Harry's lives. The woman who despite having a full nine years on Tonks could rival her any day of the week. The woman who had history that Tonks desperately lacked. The woman who sounded intelligent and funny. The woman with the annoyingly perfect laugh. The "other" woman, Tonks realized with a gasp. The woman who was going to steal Remus, and she had a bloody, perfect laugh. Sometimes Tonks wished Fate and Cupid would quit laughing at her expense.

"So you've made your choice." Nora Longbottom said simply, staring her grandson in the eye.

"I have." Neville looked her back in the eye. He tried to look stern and responsible. He didn't want to meet any more resistance. He had spent the better part of the last hour telling his Gran all about how he wasn't Frank, and about how he and Harry could manage themselves. His Grandmother had hardly said a word. She had listened instead. It was almost frightening how unnaturally calm she was. Neville was sure the blow up was imminent. He braced himself for the impact, but was pleasantly surprised when it didn't happen. Instead he watched his stone faced grandmother smile.

"Good." She said and reached for her red hand bag, and prepared to leave. "Very well. I'll be going now."

"Wait." Neville said and his grandmother responded with a curious look. "Is that all you're going to say? Just 'good'? Don't you have some long tirade about how we're too young or inexperienced? Or about how I should be more like my dad?" Neville asked, blinking and Nora looked her grandson in the eye.

"No." She said simply.

"You-You don't?" Neville asked, looking as if he was just barely holding back tears.

"No. I've finally admitted to myself what you seem to have known all along."

"And what's that?" Neville asked curiously, and his grandmother closed her eyes and sighed as she sank back into her chair.

"You're not my son, Neville. You're not Frank. I've pretended, or rather, I've tried, but you're not. You're not even Alice. I see flashes sometimes, little glimpses of them in you. But you're not them- and its time I realized it. You're better off without me Neville." She said softly and Neville looked at her as if analyzing her very soul.

"But you're my grandmother." He said. Nora wrinkled her forehead in confusion. "I'm your grandson. I'm not your child, but it still gives you a right to care." Nora closed her eyes again.

"Let's not kid ourselves Neville. If I stay in your life, all we'll ever do is argue. You and I are too stubborn to agree on anything. It won't matter what I say, because you'll do it anyway." She turned her head to view the fake scenery out the window. For a moment she looked far older than her years- practically ancient. But then she smiled. It was the same kind of smile that had graced her grandson's face not too long ago. It was a smile of hope.

"I don't want to fight anymore Neville. I'm getting old Neville. My bones creak and even though I don't look it," Mrs. Longbottom gestured to her 'hip' stuffed vulture hat. "I'm getting on in years. I'd say it's about damn time to get to know my grandson. If it's from afar than so be it. Besides," Neville's grandmother winked at him. "How many of the girls can brag that their grandsons are holed up in a shack somewhere with Harry Potter? None of them- that's who." She and Neville both chuckled. And as their laughter died, Neville smiled. For once, things were looking up.

**-Sarak**

_**Live, Love, Review.**_


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